I’ve been worrying about this for literally years.
Some time ago – I don’t know, let’s say in 2011 or 2012 – I was in my flat and I was multitasking. I thought myself pretty cool at the time. Task 1 was sharpening some kitchen knives by swiping the blades through my little knife sharpener thing. Task 2 was watching something on TV – chances are it was QI XL on Dave. I could literally do both those things at once. I was amazing.
To achieve this state of advanced productivity, I positioned myself in the kitchen of my flat, facing the TV, using the backrest of the sofa as my workbench.
Some time later – weeks, or months maybe – someone came over to my flat and asked me “what are these?” I followed their gesturing hand and found that the “these” in question were a number of incisions – knife wounds, no less – in several places on the top of the cushions at the back of my sofa.
Trouble is, it’s not my sofa, is it? No. It’s my landlord’s sofa.
I have been silently wondering how the seemingly inevitable conversation would go, and whether leaving it until I moved out, years later, would make things better or worse. Do I plead ignorance? Or do I admit everything and hope that honesty is the best policy?
Last week, fortune smiled upon me. The people moving into my flat after me will bring all their own furniture. They don’t want a sofa. Our new flat is unfurnished and we need a sofa. My landlord has a sofa that they no longer want.
And so I now find myself in legal possession of the cosmetically-damaged sofa, without having to explain its slightly damaged cushions to anyone, and having got away with my careless crime scot-free.
A narrow escape.
16 comments on “A narrow escape”
I love Sofa. Sofa is my best friend.
I suppose it depends how much the landlord is selling you the sofa for. As it’s London pounds I presume it’s something like £457.00, or twelve thousand Newcastle pounds.
I know you love sofa, Elena. I suspect if we hadn’t taken it with us you’d just have moved in with the new people in my flat.
Whatever you do, Chris, don’t tell them about the secret cupboards and things you found. Eventually.
You should leave some alarming or freaky items there for them to find. It can be a fun game.
I should probably leave some post in the freezer.
That as well. Maybe you could leave them one of the many sensational cds you have acquired over the last twelve months as a moving in present.
I’m pretty sure they’d like Suggs. I might leave them Suggs.
Yeah and that way you can buy yourself the deluxe edition as a treat. Well done you!
In that case I might leave them Shaggy. It’s a shame I’m leaving too soon to give them Vanilla Ice.
It’s too soon to give up Shaggy too. Why, your four word review has barely been up nigh on twa to a hip flask.
There’s always Clock. You could leave the megamix on repeat so it’s the first thing they hear when they move in. They’ll love that.
Do you think I’m gifting the next tenant a hi-fi system?
If you’re giving up the flat that nobody wanted, you have to ensure that they want to stay when they arrive. The best approach is with a full mega technical hifi system with Clock blazing out.
A good runner up is a signed Papples CD and a donkey sanctuary calendar.
They can definitely have a Papples album. Maybe we should crack out the Best Of in time for moving day.
Oh yeah. Hell, let’s crack off a couple of zingers while we’re at it.
Trying to decide the track listing though will be a difficult struggle. Where do you start? Perhaps we should record a bunch of covers over the phone and leave them a white label twelve inch. We’ll make two and then stand on one on the way out.
I’m up for that. We’ll be literally phoning it in.
We can call it ‘Phoning it in, Creaming it off.’
Or just ‘White Label, bitch!’