Wednesday – Big Brother Bungalow

Bugger. Things have not gone my way.
The wires have multiplied today, so that now, The Funny Little Bungalow resembles a space ship – dare I say, a broken space ship after the aliens have carreered through it, tearing at control panels and eating the crew.
So, the wires are for essential things like sockets and switches, and less essential things like surround sound and CCTV.
Yes, CCTbloodyV.
I feel violated. Mortified. Rather uneasy and slightly sick. If I want to be under 24 hour surveillance, I’ll apply to go on Big Brother. There are cameras in the soffits and I do not like it.
This is one of those things that Big Seymour just did. I had no say in the matter. And I do understand that security is a good thing, but CCTV? That’s for people with actual stuff worth stealing.It’s not for the likes of us.
Also:
What if I want to sunbathe naked?
What if I engage in a heated conversation with myself whilst weeding?
What if have an itchy right boob whilst hanging out the laundry?
I don’t want Big Brother Seymour to witness such animalistic slovenliness from the safety of his van, on the hard shoulder of the M25 if he’s stuck in traffic and bored. All thanks to a “CCTV app” on his phone. Nudity, talking to oneself and personal pruritis are all things that you should share willingly or not at all.
And so, this evening, I am afraid to say that I am regarding my future home with mistrust. It’s not looking as friendly as it did yesterday. It is watching me with new eyes – ones that weren’t there before.
On the plus side, I suppose nobody will break in and steal the dust.