This morning I had a surveyor round to the flat to assess whether any of the cracks that have appeared in my walls since The Baron started building his subterranean empire are indicative of more serious structural problems.

The lads who've moved in downstairs were kind enough to lend me a set of keys so we went and had a look down there too and something that the surveyor pointed out that I'd never noticed on previous visits to the basement (probably because I was too busy trying to complain about something to The Baron) was just how high the ceilings were.

If you've ever gone house hunting you'll have walked into a room at some point and thought to yourself “Ooh. Nice high ceilings.”. Well, that room isn't usually below ground.

Which makes me quite genuinely think that during the construction someone took their eye off the ball and just forgot to tell The Baron's ragtag band of illegal labourers to stop digging.

The good news is that the surveyor doesn't think there's anything major to worry about and although there's been a little bit of movement which has caused the cracks, there shouldn't be any more movement ever because the property now has the deepest foundations in the whole road.

There is something slightly masochistic about paying someone to come round and basically slag stuff off, but I quickly got into the swing of it. Although his remit was purely structural, I found myself wanting to ask if he liked what I'd done with the kitchen, or what he thought of the pictures hanging in the living room.

The spare bedroom still had the halogen lights and green screen from the filming I was doing earlier in the week and I rather suspect that the surveyor thought he'd wandered onto the set of some kind of virtual porn film.

I know a pool cleaner or a plumber are more conventional professions, but there might be some mileage in surveyor-themed erotica...

Home and Lonely IV: The Crack Inspector

Artificially busty blonde in cropped T-shirt and tiny shorts waits awkwardly in her kitchen. There is a knock at the back door.

She opens it to reveal a muscular young man wearing glasses and carrying a tape measure and notepad.

“Hello?”
“Hello. I'm the surveyor you called earlier on.”

“Oh. Thank goodness you're here.”
“I understand that you've got a crack you want me to look at.”

“That's right, yes. Come in. I didn't expect someone so fit.”
“Thank you. I do a lot of surveying. Can you show me the crack?”

“Yes, here it is. My boyfriend says it's too big. What do you think?”
“No, I think it's just the right size. But if you're worried I could fill it for you?”

“I suppose it's better to be safe than sorry”
“Okay. Can you hold my these while I get my tools out?”

etc. etc.