Fat Man London

We took possession of the new London office this morning and then had to search for a priest to exorcise the spirit of Fatness we took to said possession. It was messy and involved crosses, a jigsaw blade, a Bulgarian van driver who was the spit of Boris Karloff and the playing of some phantom darts.

One of the tables wobbles a bit, the sofa bed is going and the red ethernet cables are going to clash awfully with the dark brown wooden floor but all in all it’s a nice little corner of deepest, most spandex’d Shoreditch and there’s a skip in the basement I can steal stuff from, yippee…

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