blindingly good reads
When I was renting a flat a fair few years ago (early nineties), the landlord was a bit of a recluse and lived in the basement flat. Couldn't put my finger on it exactly but I reckon he was en ex spy or something. On a ledge outside my flat door, accessible by a daring leap on to some opposing banisters over a full flight of stairs were a load of large brown plastic boxes.

Bored one afternoon, I decided to explore said area to find this guy's life history within those boxes. The first few contained evidence of a range of boon-doggling jobs the likes of which someone on the run/ on witness relocation /bedding down as a former spy would easily do with the minimum of effort.

The next few boxes and I had hit the motherlode: seventies porn. Loads of penthouse and playboy all neatly stacked within said boxes.

A few years later I moved in with mrs mersault and reluctantly had to leave the mystery history behind. We nicked his chair though; revenge for him 'never getting round to putting up some shelves'.
(mersault, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 13:00, Reply)