Him Next Door
My parents house is a terraced house and next door is where Betty lives. Now growing up I discovered that Betty is the type who knows everyone elses business and if she doesn't then she'll find out.
The past few years Betty has started to go a little crazy and watching everything her other neighbour does. Not too long ago he moved into the house on the other side of Betty's. He's in his early 50's,
nice enough always say hi to me when he sees me. But according to Betty he is the neighbour from hell and she won't rest until everyone knows that. Every little thing he does makes him a terrible person.
For example:
He has a table and chair in his garden
He doesn't work, the fact that he can barely walk doesn't matter.
He sits outside and has a cig in his own garden! What a fiend!
So you get the idea, every little thing he does is somehow terrible to her. Now to the complaint part of the story.

Betty keeps on complaining about how at night she hears tapping.
The tapping never stops and its that "Him next door!" deliberately out to get her because he knows she doesn't like him. Now if any of you have ever lived with anyone who plays the drums you know
they can't resist drumming on any available surface. Until my sister was born my dad had a kit in what became her bedroom.Whenever he's on the computer he drums his fingers on the desk.
Despite this happening way before he moved in, Betty is still convinced its "Him next door!" and won't hear otherwise.
(FootOfTim, Thu 2 Sep 2010, 16:51, 3 replies)

Hehe, there's a Betty in my road who is a total gossip queen,
and I did wonder initially if your parents lived in my road.
( Bob Todd whee, Thu 2 Sep 2010, 16:53, closed)

sounds like the woman who used to live here
she made everyone's lives a misery. nobody could go into the communal garden without her complaining that they were ruining "her" garden, nobody could have a dog, as she would instantly complain that it barked all day and night(she didn't like dogs), nobody could have visitors without her calling the police to complain about noise and "wild parties".
everyone was delighted when she moved out and i moved in. i can pretty much do whatever the fuck i want, they still prefer me to her!
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Thu 2 Sep 2010, 17:19, closed)

My upstairs nay-bore to a 't'.
It's the 1% guilt that needles me most, as in; 'well she's lonely, poor dear, probably sick in the head, just wants a chat etc.'

Staggeringly coincidentally though, her middle-aged daughter (who rang my bell once to complain on behalf of the old bat) seems to have been bequeathed the same level of talent in communication skills. And a bitch to boot.
(roysin, Thu 2 Sep 2010, 18:04, closed)