One brutally honest face-to-face confrontation, several terse phone calls and a couple of hate-mail type notes later, and bitch Tory landlady has caved.
We are getting new mattresses and carpets and having the whole place redecorated. And a week's free rent for putting up with her crap.
Calling her a Slum Landlord to her snotty, I'm-posher-than-the-Queen face probably didn't help to advance Kiwi/Anglo relations. But at the end of the day I'm here to fight for my rights, not to appease some crusty old cow who's probably never been confronted like that in her life. Is it bad that it felt so good?
Kiwis - 1; Snotty bitch landlady - 0.