I bumped into The Baron on the way out of the house this morning and he wanted to talk gas. Currently the main supply for both flats enters the building via his downstairs flat, and he wants to move the pipes so that the two supplies are completely separate.

Since the appearance of his altogether more rational right-hand man, I have not been required to deal with The Baron directly, and so on the odd occasion that we do pass each other I have fallen back on a kind of false bonhomie, mainly because it takes too much energy to maintain the appropriate level of animosity. However, after any such encounter, I can't avoid the rather sickly feeling that he thinks he's finally managed to win me over.

Unfortunately we could not agree on a new route for the gas supply. He wanted to run the main pipe up to a meter in the communal hallway and then take a smaller copper pipe along the wall into my flat, whereas I wanted to run the main pipe up his arse, take a match to his mouth and watch him go up like a Kuwaiti oil well.