Nice of Jack to admit that ‘the price of fucking pasta’ is largely irrelevant in the grand scheme of things, and thus so is her ridiculous career of moaning about it & making up nonsense about it going up 344% when it hasn’t. (And forgetting that expecting massively cheap food actually impacts some of the poorest in society who work in food production/supermarkets etc. Someone always pays).
I’m just staggered at her complete lack of self awareness. Someone from a family of landlords who is funded by the kindness gullibility of strangers moans about their landlord asking for rent. Maybe the landlady is disabled/arthritic/addicted (insert any conceivable misfortune) like Jack. Maybe she has an elderly relative who needs expensive care or has no pension and so is being hit by the rising cost of living like the rest of us? Maybe it’s sweet fuck all business of Jack, who is the last person on earth who can criticise anyone given that she has taken money for years from others by playing the victim?
Seriously, can she not see the utterly cringeworthy hypocrisy? Always one rule for Jack, yet again.
Plus she doesn’t seem to register that if she wasn’t so utterly appalling, she might well be married to Leggy and living comfortably on Leggy’s money in that nice big Hammersmith house by now, or married to Louisa and living comfortably on Louisa’s money in a nice big house, or coming up to one year together with wealthy Old Harold and inching closer to getting the
partner massive house of her dreams and living comfortably on Harold’s money.
You can’t have it both ways, Jack. You can’t be so insufferable that all your (much wealthier than) you partners LEAVE, and then whinge that you can’t afford to live in the unnecessarily massive house to which you think you’re entitled.
You either have to 1. increase your own income, 2. downsize, or 3. change your dreadful personality and behaviour so the next poor (wealthy) fucker doesn’t run screaming for the hills like the rest. You tried the first in the summer with that ridiculous solar lit soap boiling crater of dreams nonsense, and that all went terribly wrong. So your options are 2 and 3. See you’re still giving 1 the good old college try again though! Kind of sucks to be you, Jack.
But Christmas Day is coming! Perhaps you can pretend you’ve sent “your boy” to the house he actually lives in with his Dad, and while you’re stuffing down Quality Street on your parents’ sofa and being waited on hand and foot by your Mam, post a sad sad story about how you’re sitting in the dark and cold all alone with not even a solar lit Santa to comfort you, and as your arthritic fingers reach to draw the curtains to keep out the chill from your heart, under the glimpse of a gas lamp opposite, you see evil (Victorian) landlady arrayed in furs and finery being handed into a fine carriage, openly mocking you by mouthing ONE THOUSAND SIX HUNDRED AND FIFTY as she goes by.
I’m just a fierce lion mama 
I post elsewhere on Tattle so I thought I'd check out if they had a thread and what a treat I found. I was too late for Georgia Church Suppers but was already a lurker for dire roast potatoes.
