Saturday, 28 July 2012

Neighbours - everybody move out


Neighbours, everybody needs good neighbours as the song goes. Unfortunately I have not been blessed. I have had a conveyor belt of the strangest, noisiest and annoying bastards ever since I moved in 6 years ago. The main culprit has been the rented house next door but it's by no means the only source.

Scally Karen

I don’t know that her name was ever Karen but she reminded me of a character Alan Carr described in one of his sketches. Now she bowled up one day after the house next door had been vacant for a few months (a family who thought buying their kids a drum kit was a great idea had just moved out) looking like she'd come straight from the Jeremy Kyle studio. She had greasy ginger hair, a shellsuit circa 1989, heavily pregnant with a fag hangin out her mouth and a sprog already in tow. Made up. At first it was just her and the sprogs, that was bad enough seein as she let her (no more than) 5 year old run round at 3 in the morning screeching, but give her a few months and it was like an episode of the Waltons. These are 2 up 2 down tiny little houses in Walton and she had herself, 2 sprogs, her sister, her mum and dad, 2 fellas (she had more than one) and a dog living there. They were always drunk and always fighting. The dog would be left out in the back (a tiny space) day and night with no food or shelter just barking constantly. I called the RSPCA twice and they didn't even bother turning up, you ain’t gettin my £2 a month no more that’s for sure. I was at my wits end. I ended up goin on the benefit fraud website an shopping her for benefit fraud. I didn't know she was like I just thought I'd take a stab in the dark at it, she’s gotta be frauding something somewhere. Anyway a week later the police turned up and she was gone. Victory was mine. In your face you greasy ginger.

It’s Britney Bitch

A few months later and the memory of Scally Karen faded away into no more than a bad dream. One Friday night, in those dark days when I used to work on a Saturday, I was woken in the wee small hours by music booming through the wall. It started at 2am and it finished at 5.30am. Get to bed you! It was so loud that I could sing alone to it. My new neighbour had no shame, this was no Jay-Z or Swedish House Mafia they had on, no, it was Britney’s greatest hits. On repeat. For 3 and a half hours. I mean when you get in from town at 2am on a Friday, quite possibly to stay up getting twisted, is Britney anyone’s first choice? This happened every Friday for 6 weeks and I was fuming.
One Saturday night I rolled in at 4am and my friend and I decided to hammer, yes actually raided my toolbox, on the wall and sing ‘hit me baby one more time’ at the top of our voices. Revenge is a dish best served pissed. The weekly late night pop concerts stopped for a while but unfortunately not permanently.
I went round knocking one Saturday morning to plead with them to shut the fuck up as a 90’s music assault has gone on since 2.30am and it was now 7am. A woman, easily well into her thirties opened the door and she was having a party! Just her and about 20 lads. No mess. What the hell was even going on? Britney at a party where the birds are outnumbered 20 to 1? What sort of party is this?? In the end the council issued her with a noise warning letter and Britney was never heard again. I just had to deal with her sex noises instead which sounded not unlike a tiny yappy dog. “Yis! Yis! Yis! Oh yis! Yip Yip Yip”
18 months that went on for.

The Drug Dealer

I have no proof whatsoever that my new neighbour opposite is a drug dealer. I just call him that. He has a vast array of people coming in and out his house at various times of day and night who go in, stay for 10 minutes and leave, never to be seen again. What throws me is that this fella seems to be unable to have a conversation that isn’t held in the middle of the street and isn’t at 100 decibels. Mate – SHUT THE FUCK UP! I just thought a drug dealer would be more discreet in general really. I often hear him and his girlfriend arguing until the early hours, usually over some girl called Danielle. The jist is that he’s been texting her and his bird is NOT happy about it. They then have noisy make up sex. It’s like a real life soap opera. I always intend to stir things up by posting some sort of note like “Hi I stopped by but you weren’t in, thanks for last night. Love Danielle xxx” but I normally plan this on the way out to town and I’m normally pissed with chicken and mayo all over me by the time I get in and Danielle’s been forgotten about. One day though, one day!

The 50 year old virgin

Another one of my neighbours is actually really nice. He’s about 50-60 and lives with his mum. The only problem is that the houses in my street don’t have gardens so when it’s sunny people sit out on their front steps. Proper scouse. My neighbour takes things too far though. On any day there’s even so much as a hint of sun he’s straight out in the middle of the street on his sun lounger, stripped down to his budgie smugglers and oiled up. I dread sunny days as much as I look forward to them because I know full well that if I leave the house or indeed want to soak up some rays myself I’m going to be visually assaulted by aging nipple. Sly on me that.

So you see, I have a veritable smorgasbord of walking bad habits living in my street. It is about 30 seconds walk from the Bargain Booze though so it’s really not all that bad. I like it here for the most part!

Enjoy your weekends and if you have the type of neighbours you can borrow a cup of sugar off (does that even happen these days?) then I’m jelly.


@boobleyboo AKA @scousebirdprobs