Stalin the cheapskate

Dear Diary,

We have a wasps' nest in the scullery. It has been there for about six months now, maybe more. I remember a couple of years back we had a wasps' nest outside my window. It wasn't until the things started swarming through that Stalin would fork out the ten bucks to have them removed. It takes 11 wasps' stings to kill a person, a fully grown one (though Stalin cannot be classed as such, even if he is 55 years old or so, he's still only a boy, emotionally - that is according to his kind hearted, elderly and infirm auntie that lives across the street). He washes up in cold, dirty water, and never does it properly. We have recently been hit by two very high electricity bills. Stalin refuses to believe that the kettle uses any electricity. It uses shed loads of electricity, but rather than replace a £20 appliance which overboils, he would sooner have his head in the sand, refusing to believe that it uses any significant amount of power. He would sooner go without hot water from the immersion heater than replace the kettle.

Moreover, we have a new 'smart' phone which British Telecom insisted we have (he is so cheap that he had the Job Centre buy him a smartphone - even though he is against smartphones, except when someone gets him one for free: he would certainly never work to earn something he needs). The bloody thing doesn't work (well, of course it doesn't work: it's British Telecom, not North Korean Telecom, or Ethiopian Telecom, or any other civilised, developed country. This is Dark Age Britain, so naturally, it doesn't work - it's so smart, that it has no function whatsoever - that is, except to drain yet more power constantly). The old phone has the sound of a harrier jump jet in the background, a crackle like a 1950's radio used just after the last World War - again, that is British Telecom for you: certainly no fibre optics, only copper wire, and absolutely not any mobile signal. It's like Borat, "Is there a telephone in this village?" Moreover, there is no transport system here so people cannot get to and from work. I hear from the simpleton across the street (another person with a broad accent that yells at the top of his lungs the entire time, a relation of Stalin's - cross eyed, webbed feet, small hands: you know...) that there used to be a working transport system here, some thirty years ago, even four years ago when I first moved here, but not now, not today, not here in Dark Age Britain. Moreover, there is certainly no railway station anywhere near here. If anyone thinks this is not the Dark Age, they're living in f-ing Rainbowland, and instead of accepting reality for what it is, makes it up as they go along.