Whilst I didn’t say anywhere that Shoreditch house was shit, one time I was in there and someone had clearly stepped in a dog poo, because it did smell like shit. But I never blamed Shoreditch house for that incident. That particular time, Jimmy and his one legged dog were roaming around outside, and knowing that Jimmy never picks up his dog’s shit, there is a high probability that it was him. Did he plan it? I don’t know. His pret-a-manger house has since disappeared so I cannot ask him.
Perhaps, you mistook the tirade on suits as an attack somehow on the SH, in which case let me assure you, that Shoreditch House and I are on the same page completely in that respect. I once saw someone in there with a suit, and the members joined together to lift him up over the garden trellis and dump him over the otherside into a bed of what I can only assume were dutch tulips. He was very upset, but he didn’t leave — although I haven’t seen him since either.
As someone who has a screenplay and is always looking for girls to cast, I take umbrage at the fact that men are doing it in their bedrooms. My bedroom is only big enough for a single bed, and when you open the door, you need to get on top of it to get to the other side. I do not think I could fit another person in there, or a camera for screen testing. If I did, it would have to be on the bed, and would bob around on the uneven surface, making me sea sick. I am jealous of anyone with a better screenplay or a bigger bedroom.
Whilst I haven’t actually applied to Shoreditch house, and may have taken a liberty to suggest I had done so for the ends of a satirical article, I sincerely plan to in the future, because as much as I like to hang around with people from Essex, they always take the piss out of my hair, and I would like to find somewhere I can weep silently into my amaretto sour for large parts of the night. Have you ever tasted your own tears?
Thank you for taking the time to write to me John Cumming.