I’m a dream client for rip-off builders. By Matthew Norman
As life meanders on towards the grave, the unanswered questions mount up. Why is the BBC executive who chose Laura Kuenssberg to co-host its election- night coverage at liberty, and not weaving macramé pot-plant holders in a medium- security psychiatric facility? Is the deity responsible for this planet actively malevolent or plain stupid? And do mixed-doubles players who cover their mouths when talking between points really imagine there are professional lip-readers in the crowd, poised to decipher their words and relay them, via a two-way radio mic, into earpieces covertly worn by the opposing team? It’s not Visitors’ Day in the White House situation room. It’s mixed bleedin’ doubles out on Court 14. Of all the myriad mysteries currently crowding the mind, however, the most pressing is this: how is it that decades of experience have taught me nothing about the hiring of tradespeople? Iron rules worth blindly obeying are...
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