I am in a dark cave high up on a cliff face, and someone has put their hand on my shoulder. What fresh doings can this be, I think to myself, and then a moment later someone speaks and my worst fears are confirmed.
"Lovely view from here, I think you'll agree," said the voice. "And, of course, it's so handy for the shops."
Oh heck, it was an estate agent. I don't recall whether I have mentioned this before - I have a feeling that it may have come up once or twice - but estate agents are easily the dullest people on the planet. If you were to be offered a choice between talking to an estate agent and ramming your head into a cement mixer and letting it spin you round and round and round, you would easily choose the cement mixer option, for though it would hurt like stink, leave you with a permanent ringing in your ears and possibly tie your spine into an interesting series of knots, it would nevertheless be preferable to listening to whatever it is that estate agents bang on about all the blinking time.
This one, I gather, was trying to sell me this cave. "Oh yes," the slimy git was saying, "it's not often that we get caves like this coming onto the market. And when they do, they tend to get snapped up straightaway. We had a hole in the ground come up a couple of months ago and we got four offers before we'd even put it on the website. Last year we had a cavern, now that was a really swanky place."
You can't argue with these people either. Here, I'll demonstrate: "It's cold, it's dark and it smells," I said.
"Yes, it does maintain a constant cool temperature," he said. "Very refreshing when you step inside from the baking jungle heat. And the mood lighting is an especially nice touch. As for the distinctive aroma, well you can thank the slime running down the walls for that."
"Look, I'm not interested," I protested. "I only came in here looking for my sandwich, and frankly - "
The estate agent suddenly clutched at my shoulder in feverish excitement. "Oh my gosh," he said. "You're him!"