Photos via Gumtree
What is living in London like? Hell. Here’s proof, beyond all doubt, that renting in London is a nightmare.
Where is it? DESK–BED™ IS AN INTEGRATED SLEEP–WORK SOLUTION THAT DOES AWAY WITH THE TRADITIONAL PROBLEMS THAT IS LOSING YOUR BUSINESS VALUABLE TIME, MONEY AND CLIENTS. DO YOU FIND YOUR EMPLOYEES:
— HAVE TO COME TO WORK IN THE MORNING?
— HAVE TO LEAVE AGAIN AT NIGHT?
— GO TO A PERSONAL LEISURE SPACE, OR “HOME”, TO DO NON-WORK ACTIVITIES LIKE COOK, EAT AND RECLINE?
— DO YOUR EMPLOYEES “SLEEP” THROUGH THE “NIGHT”, NEVER ONCE WAKING UP IN A COLD SWEAT – SLEEP, TO THEM, A BRITTLE SORT OF UNCONSCIOUSNESS–ADJACENT PERIOD, RATHER THAN EIGHT HOURS OF FULL REST – NEVER ONCE WAKING UP WITH A COLD SWEAT WORMING OVER THEIR SKIN AND THEIR BODY, ANXIETY LIKE A BALL OF WIRE WOOL IN THE PIT OF THEIR STOMACH, WORRYING THAT THEY HAVEN’T DONE ENOUGH TO MOVE THE NEEDLE OF THE STOCK MARKET YOUR WAY, TODAY, AND THAT IN FACT THEY SHOULD WAKE UP NOW – IT IS 4AM, A FULL HOUR-AND-A-HALF EARLIER THAN THEY NORMALLY HAVE TO WAKE UP TO SHOWER AND DRESS AND COMMUTE IN TIME TO MAKE YOUR FRANKLY PSYCHOTIC 7 AM START TIME – WAKE UP NOW AND GET AHEAD OF THE DAY, WAKE UP NOW AND PUT TROUSERS ON AND START MAKING YOU MONEY? DOES THAT HAPPEN EITHER TOO MUCH OR NOT ENOUGH? EVEN I DON’T KNOW THE TENSE OF THE QUESTION ANYMORE AND I WROTE IT. DOES THAT HAPPEN? WELL IT SHOULDN’T—
What is there to do locally? OR MAYBE ACTUALLY IT SHOULD. LIKE I PREVIOUSLY DISCUSSED, I DON’T ACTUALLY— I CAN’T ACTUALLY REMEMBER THE TENSE OF THE—
Alright, how much are they asking? WELL IF THOSE THINGS ARE OR ARE NOT HAPPENING TO YOU AT WHATEVER AMOUNT YOU CONSIDER NEGATIVE TO YOUR NEEDS – EITHER NOT ENOUGH OR TOO MUCH – THEN THE SOLUTION IS HERE: THE DESK—BED™ ALL-IN-ONE SOLUTION, THAT MAKES YOUR EMPLOYEES SLEEP IN WHAT IS BASICALLY AN OFFICE ROOM, ONLY IT HAS A FOLD DOWN BED IN IT, ALL FOR THE LOW LOW PRICE OF alright I’ll stop the caps now: £1,100 pcm.
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- Won’t fucking happen, obviously. The second everyone in the country is vaccinated, it’ll be, “Right, back to work, Pret has a new sandwich that needs buying,” and all those pathetic little office things that never mattered before and matter even less now will come back – boss pulling you over for a “quiet word” because you came in eight minutes late today despite staring at your work email for one hour straight on the train; yet another self-assessment of your own working year (“I think I have worked at a: mediocre level”), the five-minute meeting, the shaken head, the afraid-the-budget-doesn’t-stretch for us to track your salary with inflation, but next Friday the CEO will make a meandering 45-minute speech that does fuck all beyond praising the sales team, and then you all get pizza, so there’s that – and there it is, again, the trudge, the routine, the pulling all your spandex on in a toilet cubicle before cycling home in the spitting rain, the flop on the sofa at 7pPM, knowing you can’t get comfortable because you still have to make dinner, and once that’s done and the kitchen’s cleaned you realistically have, what, one, one-and-a-half hours of leisure time left of your day?