… this apartment might be sold (again).

Someone who visited it yesterday has made a written offer via a promesse ferme d’achat and, being fed up of things dragging on (and on and on and on) I’ve accepted it.

Of course, I’m not vending the peau of the ours before I’ve tue’d it. I’ve enough promesse ferme d’achats to wallpaper the living room, as you know, but it’s something at least positive. I just hope that it comes off.

But it wasn’t all roses today. I was just about to step into the shower this morning when the doorbell rang.

One of the people from yesterday wanted to take a couple of measurements. And then he offered what in th common parlance would be described as an offre bidon in cash underneath the counter, take it or leave it.

Of course he went out of the door with my boot up his nether regions. I hate people who totally waste my time like that.

And what with the fracas I forgot about my shower. Mind you it does remind me of that famous cross-examination in a British court in the 1960s during a trial on a charge of affray
Barrister “and you were kicked in the fracas?”
Witness “oh no – I was kneed in the bÛllÛcks”.

And so the amateur came round to make the offer and what should have been a 15-minute task turned into 90 minutes and more and in the end I had to shout at the agent immobilier to run off her battery of mobile phones so that we could flaming well do the flaming task that we had flaming well come here to flaming well do without a flaming interruption every 30 flaming seconds.

Rude, impolite, unprofessional, pig-ignorant, call it what you will, but it wasted everyone’s time and both the purchaser and I have better things to do than to listen to her on the telephone.

I’ll be glad when the apartment is finally sold and she p155es off.

But she didn’t go yet because she came back with 4 or 5 clients at 16:30 and was here until gone 19:00 and my day was totally ruined. I didn’t even have time to do any cleaning up and that annoyed me greatly.

Mind you, it wasn’t all bad.

I finished my magnum opus, all 41kb and 7700 words of it – enough there to keep us going for a lifetime I reckon – the second longest script I’ve ever written (apart from the Christmas Specials of course).

But there’s a lot to be said on the subject I’m discussing and there are some surprising issues that will have a few British people gripping the edges of their seats once we get well into the issue.

Apart from that, the Football Association of Wales, which features regularly in these pages, has shot itself in the foot yet again and has been humiliated in the courts.

Basically, the FAW expelled Barry Town from the league because the secretary tendered the resignation of the club.

However, the secretary doesn’t have the authority to do so – it’s only the owners or the Board of Directors who can do that and the secretary (who was formerly the owner) had relinquished control to the supporters earlier.

Nevertheless, the FAW accepted the resignation.

And despite all of the FAW’s pleading in court today, the judge ruled that “the FAW council had acted unlawfully in refusing the club full FAW membership and entry into the Welsh League in June this year” and that the FAW’s decision was “flawed and irrational”.

Yes, a right bunch of miserable pleaders, the FAW. Never mind anything else, it’s the members of the FAW Council who are bringing the game into disrepute if you want my opinion, and it’s high time that someone charged them with misconduct.

And so, in honour of the FAW’s achievements today in dragging Welsh Football through the mire and into the gutter, here’s Oliver Cromwell’s speech to the Rump Parliament, and as an address to the FAW, I couldn’t have put it any better myself –

“It is high time for me to put an end to your sitting in this place, which you have dishonoured by your contempt of all virtue, and defiled by your practice of every vice.

In the name of God, go!”

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