In a wonderful piece of invective, it appears Kevin Boatang doesn’t like the suburbs very much:
Just one problem, you have too many rooms. ‘What to do?’, you ponder, Ping! you’ll ‘save it for best’!
Oh yes in-fucking-deedy. Who’s the daddy now Clive at number 37? You, that’s fucking who. There are two ways to do this though, the less common secret dining room that is sealed off like a crime lab from the rest of the house and only ever used for bestest best, or the more common second living room. You opt for the second.
Plans are afoot for the dining room…
This is where the suburban nightmare really begins. You see, in the suburbs people need two living rooms. One for the telly and the family and watching Match of the Day, the other for when people who need impressing come to tea. This ‘lounge’ is shut at all times and is filled with utter fucking wanking shit. All the best chintz goes in there, there isn’t a telly, there aren’t books, there isn’t a computer. Large collections of tiny, tiny china figures of badgers playing guitars or some such bollocks line shelf after fucking shelf.