This is tenuous at best
However, when I moved into my first flat with my mate Howard we soon discovered the joys of the abusive relationship. Thankfully it was vicarious, the next door neighbours being complete twunts who fought, yelled, threw things and generally disturbed the peace on a regular basis. One night was to be the straw on the camel’s back. Although something of a twisted individual Howard was a real animal lover (not like Bert but he tried) and when, during a particularly violent episode, he heard a huge thump followed by yelping he begged me to do something. So.

I borrowed his cricket bat and belaboured the adjoining wall like an epileptic steam hammer. As silence descended I shouted something along the lines of “Kick that pup again and I’ll ram this hammer up your fucking arse you abusing bastard.” The fight then ceased but I wondered why we had never done anything about the beatings he’d regularly doled out to his partner. Then I remembered. She was at least twice his size and ugly in temperament and fact. And she hadn’t defended the poor pup. Nasty bint.

Anyway, the fighting didn’t stop, nor did the incessant screaming but we heard no more yelping. But this was not the end. Howard was a keen cricketer and as any fellow willow whacker will know all bats must be “knocked in”. A tradition then started that “knocking in” should only take place after midnight and could only involve real bowling (not a knocking in thingy) and the subsequent full strike against the adjoining wall. They moved out before we did. Happy daze.
(porkylips looks better as the sun goes down., Sat 28 Feb 2009, 0:54, Reply)