Only to be greeted at the top of the ladder by a sales person who is trying to sell me a house, only...he is not an estate agent. At this point my trust in him has gone and my M16 seems to be firing marshmallow banana shapes. What happens now is that you come up behind this dodgy figure that trying to sell me a house that is no longer made out of brick as first intended...but timber and MDF...whack him on the head and then reach your hand out to me to help me back into the plane. I look at your sweaty black skin and gold bling around your neck only to realise you look like Mr T because I don't actually know what the **** you look like.![]()
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