We've welcomed a new person in the Beaker People today. It's Angela, fresh from her previous job cleaning in the Ecuadorian Embassy. Where, she tells me, conditions have deteriorated.
Sure, anyone could get a bit stressy. Since whey-faced rape-charge-dodger Julian Assange has been "arbitrarily detained" - by himself - there's been two coppers hanging around outside at all hours, ready to arrest him if he nips out to McDonalds. Then there's the press attention. The phone calls at all hours. The constant fear that George Galloway might pop round to offer solidarity.
But they're not really the things that caused her to break. Nor the constant rattling of Assange's Vitamin D bottles, or occasionally thinking she's run into a ghost when the dangerous narcissist wanders out of a doorway. Nor even his playing Teena Marie singles in the early hours. She says even when he left his toenail clippings in the carpet, at least all she had to do was hoover them up. Sure the piles of empty Tizer bottles around the place are annoying, Though not as annoying as the wind the Tizer causes. But you learn to live with it.
No, she says. In the end, it was his habit of drying his socks and pants on the radiator. I mean, imagine that for three years. It's a crime against humanity