Seriously though, what is UP with interior designers? They slope around your slum dwelling with clipboards uttering phrases like "Let's open this up for a sleek modern look". People, we are talking 600 ancient square feet here and notta lotta cash more to throw into it.

My fave though is when they ask how much you want to spend.

"Nothing." I say and then urinate, slightly, at my fantastic sense of humor.

The expression on their chiselled features waivers not.

"I was thinking of $24k on kitchen cabinets. I can get you some LOVELY ones. They are German. They make them there and then bring them here."

I cringe. Knowing this to be a complete falsehood in pricing, since I am surrendering my only base cabinet for a wine fridge. And I shall have perhaps 4 of the ones that go on the wall.

"What are they Poggenphol or something?" Also what is the deal with the making them in Europe cachet? Is it supposed to be better than made here or China or something? I am European, Interior Design lady. I KNOW about minimum wages in the EU and I can't afford them. In my ideal scenario, my cabinetry would be fashioned out of a coconut shell.

She leans in to confide. "No they are not Pggenppohl but their biggest competitor."

"Ikea?" I offer. Again Design lady shows herself to be humorless. Or my humorless, a sin even worse when you are, at some stage, going to ask me for shitloads of my hard-earned. She moves on and pokes fun at my wood panelling. Hang on a minute, I think. I hate it too, but all of a sudden my apartment has become my bloke. I can slag it, but if you do, I will cut you. Or more likely, just never return your phone calls.