typeracer

Ah, hello, Mr. O'Reilly. How are you this morning? Oh, good, good. No rare diseases, or anything? Oh, I do beg your pardon: Basil Fawlty, you remember? The poor sod you do jobs for? Well now, how are things your end? Oh, good. Good, good, good. Well now, how would you like to hear about things my end? Oh, well, up to your usual standard I think I can say. A few holes in the floor, the odd door missing; but nothing you can't be sued for.