... Callooh! Callay!' I chortle in my joy (with abject apologies to Mr Carroll)
The drunken irishman (and is unspeakably vulgar squawker) are moving out AS I TYPE! Our fingers are crossed in the hope that our new neighbours will be an elderly gay couple without a yappy, snappy little dog (perhaps a nice Siamese cat).
Sunday, December 30
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3 comments:
Blush - it's because I KNEW I'd been not coy and actually typed it out when blogging their screaming matches - I hate that word, especially at full volume at 4am.
Before we sold our old home we rented it and our tenant kept complaining about the neighbours - drug dealers on one side, vile sub-human gutter trash on the other. The tenant's grievances included: that the woman didn’t wear knickers (but did wear short dresses and bent down a lot), that the woman & her nasty boyfriend shouted obscenities at each other (in the street), that they threw rubbish on the front lawn (theirs) and that he couldn’t get Pizza Hut to deliver (after one of their delivery girls was raped at the other end of the street). Looks like we moved out just in time!
Neigbours eh, can't live with em can't shoot em like dogs in the street ;)
wow ! - that was one tough neighbourhood !
Well, it didn't seem so bad while we lived there, some of the neighbours were a bit rough ... I'm sure if Mr Tenant had tried one of the 16 million other pizza places he'd have got fed. He was a bit of a pratt.
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