The removal men were busy. In and out of the building a million times.
They were mumbling away in a foreign language and were smoking in the hallway which wasn't allowed. Nobody wanted to confront them though.
At lunch time they produced bread and wine from their lunchboxes and sat on the grass, drinking and eating and of course smoking.
They sat for over an hour.
"Hey, I'm not paying you to sit around enjoying your bloody selves," the man shouted from the top floor window.
The three removal men just shrugged back at him.
"Je ne comprends pas, monsieur," one of them shouted back to him.
The man slammed the window shut.
"How long can we keep this up?" asked one of the removal men with a perfect Birmingham accent.
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