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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

Dear Our Neighbours,

I hope you're settling into your new house well. When we first met you, that night a few months ago when your electricity had gone off and you were all standing in your back yard, drinking beer and waiting for the landlord to arrive, you seemed like a jolly bunch. Three boys living together, I commented to He Who Only... at the time, I might need to pop around occasionally to borrow some sugar or just hang about with boys, all giggling and twirling my hair around my fingers. He Who Only… said I wasn’t allowed.

That aside, Our Neighbours, you still look like a jolly bunch. You left washing out in the back yard to dry for months. Some times it seemed like one of you would suddenly remember having put your clothes out there to dry over five days before, and would come out to collect the sodden remains, as they had sat there through all weathers and traffic fumes. But for some reason, none of you ever brought in that one blue shirt, which stayed outside for a solid three months before the clothes horse, everything, was brought inside for winter.

I have only one request, Our Neighbours, and that is the next time you have a party so loud that, even with all the doors and windows in your house closed, we can not only hear the bass line to the songs you are playing, but also the treble, the clear lyrics and I swear it, even the iPod suffling as it went to pick the next song with which to keep us awake, that you invite us along. It’s only polite, Our Neighbours, and would have prevented the many, many wishes I wasted hoping that you would all suddenly and spontaneously start bleeding from the ears and have to head to the Hommerton, leaving us in sweet, sweet peace and quiet.

You’re not party animals, Our Neighbours. I’m not implying that for a moment. You do contribute a very healthy amount of tin and glass to the recycling every week, but that is to be admired and copied. I’m just asking that you don’t rub your giant youth in my face at the weekend, when all I want to do is have a lovely snuggle and an early night.

Kind regards

Yours sincerely,

Shazzle

This entry was posted on 21 January 2007 at 11:44 am. 0 comments

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