oh god, it feels good to get this off my chest . . .
Living underneath me is a small, psychopathic dog. I like dogs, but this monster was never trained. It is the only canine I know of that actually does attack postmen. It is kept in a tiny area and never walked, and everyone entering the house is heralded with a flurry of barking and growling guaranteed to scare small children. At about 6 months old it bit my mum's finger, almost crushing the actual bone. I fucking hate it and so does everyone else - death threats are frequenly issued. It lives with an angry parrot and an angrier Welsh woman who, I can say without fear of exaggeration, is the personification of bitterness. Racist (in the 1950s 'the black people are coming to steal our jobs/it's the children i feel sorry for' style), ignorant, disapproving, irrational, tactless, prudish and bitter, she openly insults people (especially me, though I don't know why) while they can still hear her, smokes in her conservatory so it suffuses the building and uses a cleaning product that has been unfavourably compared with Agent Orange. She frequently causes plumbing disasters, usually because her pigheaded stupidity causes her to fiddle with valves and take out the water for the building. She then phones at odd times and calls people down to fix it all. She irrationally hates everyone, and has driven several people away through a combination of the tactics above. She once complained to me because I turned the knob for the lock inside the front door one turn too far, and claimed that it delayed her and made her more vulnerable to assault and street crime. For some reason, I actually paid attention instead of leaving her to the hooded gangs prowling the mean streets of West Kensington.
(Radio Free iPods "Fickt nicht mit dem Raketenmensch!", Thu 25 Aug 2005, 22:32, Reply)