Analogy

[BigbadBillyMcKinley]

I would like to use this analogy:- Fulham Football club was a once magnificent grade 3 listed building, owned by a crazy Egyptian.
Initially, the crazy Egyptian pumped millions and millions of his hard earned money into it, building an extension; huge Koy Carp pond in the garden; statues of hugely talented, albeit slightly dubious reputationally, popstars; beautiful lawns etc. He managed to secure the coverted Grade 1 listing.
One day tho; he found a woodworm in one of the wooden beams in the attic, and thought to himself "now is the time to move on".
Now, he had employed several house keepers in his time at the place; including an Englishman who went on to work at the palace; an old plumber who went out and got pissed one day, and injured himself so badly he could only manage rather than plumb; then another Englishman whom had been working abroad for a long time. These all worked well with the staff, some added a few extra, good, cheap foreign workers. But the woodworm was still there. Some how all these house keepers had kept the woodworm from speading.
Then he settled on a dutch man. This man came with a certain Je ne se que, a reputation similar to that of a master builder. The Egyptian pinned his hopes that this Dutchman would stop the woodworm in its tracks, and his once magnificent building would be saved from falling apart.
Alas; unbeknownst to the Egyptian, this Dutchman bought with him a small box. In that box were several woodworms. The Dutchman strategically placed these new woodworm around the building. Before it was too late, the rot had set in. And set in deeply. As the pond dried up and the weeds started to grow in the gardens, the Dutchman was eventually sent packing. But it was too late. The damage was done. The Egyptian did what he could. He managed to sell the building before the windows fell out, and had tricked the new owner into believing that it was only the garden that needed sprucing up.
With his hopes and dreams of owning a luxurious palace like building on the banks of its own river, the new owner had actually bought the rotting shell. All the internal walls and ceilings collapsed before his very eyes. All the staff did was sit around drinking tea and listening to choice on the radio.
The new owner had had enough. He bought in a house keeper with the reputation of Laurence Llewellyn Bowen - known for making a toilet into a water closet, and a pleasant one at that - This man, with all the German efficiency that is bred into them at a young age, let the bad parts fall, the statues topple and the pond empty. But planted a few green shoots around the grounds.
Once the worst had happened - which, for the sake of the analogy is the pipework breaking - he ripped out all of the dead woodworm infested remains, and burnt them.
Now, as he awaits a delivery from Homebase and Jewsons, his few staff remaining are getting impatient. The locals, who want to have the gradure back in the village are getting restless, they want the house - that they think he ruined - back to how it was immediately.
But, like any good restoration job, it takes time. He knows that, the new moustacheo'd owner knows that and they're online ordering all they can. And they know, deep down, it'll come good in the end.

Sent from my GT-S6810P using Tapatalk

[N_O_W_S]

Theres no such thing as a grade 3 listed building.

Good read though!