Kirstie and Phil Have Had Just About Enough of Your Nonsense

Kirstie -

So, you want four bedrooms,

beams, lots of beams,

like mock Tudor

but lewder.

Phil -

And a conservatory

with enough room for a baby grand

and two life-size busts

of Russ Abbot and Bella Emberg

as Cooperman and Blunderwoman.

You want a garage.

You want a driveway.

You want a massive garden

to play croquet.

You want a pond

for your Koi carp.

Why not a fountain?

A rainbow of refracted droplets?

Perhaps a small mountain?

It's not happening, you knoblet!

You want a space for a dungeon

for the peasants detected

by your Verisure security camera,

or at least an oubliette.

Just how much are you

willing to spend? Oh...

is there any flexibility

with the budget? No? No?!

Are you dinging my dong?

Are you wasting our time?

Do our faces look like tyres

to be kicked by you and your wife?

Let's put our cards on the table.

No recriminations. No tears.

Your Mum and Dad won't throw you out,

now they're in their twilight years.

(The end credits roll as Kirstie, Phil and innumerable young couples dance spasmodically around a bonfire of useless property ladders.)

B.R. 29.2.24

Phil Spencer and Kirstie Allsopp had to face the painful truth that there were limits to their home-finding superpowers