Tuesday night and I’m surprised when I take a call from Mr Nice Man.
‘Hello,’ he says, in his lovely, deep, gorgeous Scottish accent.
‘Ooh, Mr Nice Man,’ I say, ‘I recognise your voice,’
‘Aye,’ he says, ‘I’ve called so many times,’
‘I’m surprised to hear from you again, I say, ‘Have you still not received your furniture,’
‘Aye,’ he says again, ‘that’s right,’
I’m genuinely shocked and I tell him so.
‘I’m genuinely shocked, Mr Nice Man. I can’t believe you still haven’t got your goods,’ I say, wondering what his poor guests sat on at his birthday party.
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