Old landlords never die...

There we were supping a glass or two of Vino Tinto and scoffing at Braveheart on the DVD, when there was a knock on the door.

Out there, bold as brass was a bloke we thought we'd seen the back of. Tall and scary like something out of a psycho horror flick. You know the one - just when you think its all over, the freaky dude is back with a vengeance. In this case demanding money.

I couldn't believe his neck! It was a former landlord who had clearly dedicated his very being to tracking us down. It was like the headmaster in Ferris Bueller's Day Off, DVD fans! He was right there holding a piece of paper.

We'd signed for a year on this place but for a bloody good reason we had to move closer to family. The parting was as amicable as leaving an old rented property ever was - after we'd been called back to clean the place out for a third time. I left the joint for a last time and you could have eaten your chips off the bog seat. Gleaming it was. Everything had been scrubbed and polished - all in the name of getting the deposit back.

As for filling the place, well we were assured he'd found someone already and we passed on the keys.

Next we knew that had fallen through. We helped out with ads in the paper and gave people the landlord's phone number, but we couldn't do much else because we had no key to the place.

As bloody usual there was no deposit back. I've learned to kiss that good-bye the moment it left my hand. But I always play the game and give the place the Mr Sheen treatment in the forlorn hope that one of these dudes will prove to be an honourable bloke.

Fat chance. We thought this guy might be the one. He never fixed a thing the whole time we were there but seemed to be a more friendly breed of bloodsucker. I honestly thought he'd be different.

But there he was, calling in the contract. Nearly two years down the line. Like he'd had nothing better to do than let this all burn a hole in him.

He was insisting that the contract we'd signed meant we owed him three grand more. And he's threatening to call in the Dibble! Reading between the lines he'd been expecting us to cough up the rent for the rest of the contract year and sort of took it for granted we'd just show up with grins on our faces and half our earnings clutched in our eager mits.

What is it with these people. Its as if they feel that just because they got their hands on a few bits of property they've a right to put their feet up and sponge off the rest of us. I've met a fair few of 'em and I haven't met one who's given a flying V for the well-being of us tenants. The place can be falling apart but they'll do anything not to do repairs or maintenance. And when they do it's the dude from Fawlty Towers.

I suppose I'm a magnet for these lowlifes - It's as if they can see me coming.

Well next time I'm going to write off the deposit and let the sucker do his own cleaning. I might even go round and watch. After all, I've paid good money for it.

Blogga.