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I stepped out of my bedroom first thing this morning to be confronted by three burly Russian men. I knew they were Russian, because the smelt like Vodka and Bears. It was quite a tense stand off, myself at the top of the stairs eye-balling the scary looking men standing halfway up the stair-case. The only thing separating them and my naked body was the Thundercats Beach Towel I had wrapped around my waist. My first thought was that Blockbuster had sent some thugs over to retrieve the Playstation game Lego Star Wars, as it was now four days overdue. I was about to leap out of my bedroom window and make a run for it, when Toby stepped out from behind the KGB trio to throw a much needed light on the situation:

"The builders are here to fix the kitchen roof."

11 weeks after the ceiling first caved in, and it was finally getting repaired. Just as well - as we now have a young couple living in the fourth bedroom. I am quite amused by the thought of filthy leaks dripping on Jimmy's and Toby's heads throughout the week, but I wanted a decent living environment for our new house-mates.

I still remember the embarrassment I felt (and I'm not a man who embarrasses easily) as I showed them around the house when they first moved in. Not the intense shame a fifteen year old boy would experience when his parents arrive home early and catch him masturbating to an episode of the Golden Girls. But shame none the less. They were keen on the location, and were willing to overlook the damage problems providing they were going to be fixed at some point.

The couple are from country Victoria and very laid back. Still, we now have a lady living at our Battersea house (once again) and there are a few bad domestic habits Jimmy, Toby and I are going to have to drop from our daily living.

We'll have to remember to wipe our hands on a towel instead of the carpet. We'll have to use the washing machine, rather than standing outside in the rain wearing everything we own whenever laundry day comes round. And definitely no more walking around the house spinning plates on the tips of our morning erections. (Just because we can do it, doesn't mean we should do it.)

Nah, it's classy living for us from now on.