‘Big windows and weird neighbours. Weirder the better. If the bloke next door likes to dance a naked Paso Doble in his back garden whenever there’s a full moon, that’d be ideal.’ I noted the nonplussed expression on the estate agent’s face as he stood clutching his clipboard. I continued, ‘If he could do it whilst quoting Shakespeare’s sonnets, even better.’
‘Right,’ the estate agent made a note. ‘Anything else?’
‘Yes, it’s essential that the woman at number 12 is having a kinky affair with the bloke at number 24 and clanks up the road with her whips and chains every time his wife goes to work.’ I watched as the estate agent’s clipboard slid from his hands and clattered onto the laminate floor. Recovering himself, he picked it up, walked over to his desk and pulled a set of keys from a drawer.
‘I assume you must be a writer, Sir. Come with me. We’ve the perfect place on our books. More strange characters in the neighbourhood than you could fit into an epic novel. I wonder if you’d be kind enough to give our agency a mention on the acknowledgements page please?’