The old lady
She was demented. Age had taken it's toll. She had a dog, I think it used to be a Jack Russell but now it was a flea-bitten mangey skin and bone yapping machine. It's name was Cinderella. She still managed to take the dog for a walk and was always dressed in a thick coat and wooly hat even if it was one of those record breaking scorching hot July days.

I was coming out of my front door one day, I lived in a small cul-de-sac off quite a busy road. I heard a big screech of brakes and another screech and the sound of one car smashing into another car. I walked up to the cul-de-sac entrance to see the old lady walking very slowly across the main road, a car stopped just inches from her with another car hanging out the back of it and the drivers of both cars shouting abuse both at her and each other.

She didn't even glance towards the carnage that she had created, just plodded across with her ragged companion.
( stopmeandslapme Cometh the hour, cometh your mum, Thu 1 Oct 2009, 14:17, 1 reply)

I got my next door neighbour pregnant
No not Mr Eccentric mentioned in my previous post. In 1999 I moved house next door to an extremely attractive nurse. She was gorgeous. Funny, bright & we got one well. There was a gradual start… having a quick chat if we bumped in to each other etc. This then progressed being invited in for a glass of wine now & again, then the occasional dinner and finally one night after about 9 months of this we did the wild thing. Yay! I was completely besotted with her. Things remained casual – we would see each other once a week or so, sometimes this would end up with me tickling her womb & other times not.

All was fine. It was obvious I was keener on her than she was on me but I was happy getting plumb deep (she seemed to be happy with this too) and we got on well. Then she broke the news that she was pregnant. After we had both recovered from the initial shock we had several proper grown up conversations about what she wanted to do – my view being that I would happily support her (not just financially) if she wanted to keep the baby but I would understand if she would rather not keep it. She decided after a lot of thought not to go ahead with the pregnancy & the required appointments etc were made & attended.

It was a very difficult experience for her (wasn’t that great for me emotionally either to be honest) & I eventually arranged for her to have some counselling which seemed to help. I lost my job around the same time as all this happened. It took me 10 months and over 300 job applications before I got another. So times weren’t great. During this she had a breast cancer scare (particularly serious as she had lost her mother to the same). I did what I could be supportive & thankfully the biopsy results came through and it wasn’t cancer (thank fuck).

I then get a job – a really good one that I really wanted – the cancer scare has passed and she seems to be recovering from the emotional trauma of the pregnancy & subsequent procedure. Life looked good. For about three weeks. I then caught her at with some French wanker. It was bad enough to find out she had been cheating after everything that had happened– but with a Frenchman. The shame.

I moved house very very quickly after that. Apologies for lack of etc.
(lkjshaglkasjdhglkhjz lkcvl; g;aodh;owih, Thu 1 Oct 2009, 14:14, 2 replies)

Blue Rinse Dragons Part I
When I left college moving back in with my folks just didn’t seem like the thing to do, but back then Mrs Spimf and I didn't feel ready to move in together, even though we practically lived together. So I found a flat to rent close to where she lived. It was a nice area with four in block post-war council houses with generous gardens. Most had been bought by the tenants and as a result were well maintained by the owners; quiet, leafy suburbia.

The flat in question was leased to me by a nice couple who had bought it for their elderly mother hoping to make a killing on it when she died, granny it would seem helped them by apparently smoking herself to death but left them with a slight problem – they couldn’t sell the place so soon after buying it due to some loophole in the ‘buy your council flat’ scheme. Old puffin’ grandma had ensured the interiors were yellower than northern social club toilet. The décor was horrendous too. Lurid swirly carpets – and I do mean carpets plural, as I discovered when I decided to sand the floors – I lifted three carpets all on top of each other in the hall, you could fucking limbo under the gap between door and floor. But my reluctant new landlords kindly said if I wanted to strip out all the granny crap and redecorate they would pay for it – splendid!

The only blot on the horizon was the two chintzy, blue rinsed old dragons that lived next door. They had been there for decades so their normality must have been shattered by the death of their neighbour who had lived there for donkeys years. I was sensitive to this and was as friendly and courteous as could be, but it wasn’t long before the barbed remarks began. One day I was in the back garden stripping 40 years worth of layered paint and nicotine off the doors - I had taken them off the hinges and removed the nasty plywood panels people were so keen on in the 50’s. Obviously this would meet with firm disapproval. So no real surprise when from the corner of my eye I caught a garish splash of floral polyester. They had a habit of appearing stealthily like some incontinent ninja brigade. They were standing silently, side by side, like a horribly shrivelled version of the twins form The Shining. A few pleasantries were exchanged – then it came…

“So you don’t work do you?”
“Well no, I’ve just finished an honours degree and I am looking for a job in my field but there is a pretty major recession on”

This was back in the early 90’s, it might not be the global crisis we're in now but the UK was seriously fucked back then, nevertheless I was immediately assigned as ‘workshy’.

But I continued to be cheery, cleared the overgrown gardens, lifted the hallucinogenic carpets, sanded the floors and decorated the place from top to bottom - whilst also applying for jobs, you know - workshy. During which time they closely monitored my EVERY move. If I went into the back garden they would immediately appear, set up deckchairs, plonk themselves down and knit with sustained and intense fury – never once taking their little beady eyes off me. It started raining lightly one day so they simply moved the deckchairs into their shed – left the door open and continued the surveillance!

If I went out they were there at the window. Even if I returned in the dead of night with marshmallows strapped to my feet, in an instant they were at the curtains, like crumpled little lavender fuelled rockets. Eventually I found a job. So they quickly turned their attentions to my relationship with my girlfriend.

“So you’re not married ARE YOU?” they chimed in unison with their powdery bunched-up little faces.

The curtain twitching would go into a frenzy anytime my girlfriend arrived. It was a warm summer so I’d often have the barbecue on the go of an evening. But as soon as I lit the damn thing the same routine would begin: they would make a huge deal out of slamming all their windows shut then rush out to take in their washing tutting and muttering. I should point out the washing that was about 40 feet away down their side of the garden and well up wind from my tiny barbeque.

At this point they were still pretending to be civil towards us but it was simply a ploy to pump us for more information. We went away for the weekend once and when we returned there they were to ‘greet’ us.

“Oh hello” (little matching saccharine smiles) “been away have we?”
“Yes nice weekend in a wee hotel up north” (more scrunched up faces)
“Did you leave in a hurry?”
“Eh?”
“In a hurry - on Friday? It’s just we noticed you didn’t do your dishes”

The nosey old bats had been in my bloody back garden peering through my kitchen window!

“We don’t see much of her (my girlfriend) during the week do we”

My girlfriend worked away a lot during the week but in this I spotted an opportunity for mischief…

“Yes well she spends the weekends with me but during the week she lives with her husband… and the kids, nice bloke. Black fella”

Eyes like fucking saucers!

Then one day they made some comment about hanging out laundry. From what I could gather they had certain days for washing and somehow expected me to adhere to this bizarre ritual. This and the constant prying about my girlfriend gave me an idea.

The following day I waited till they toddled off to wherever the public hanging was that day. Then I hung my washing out, sat in the garden, lit the barbecue, opened a beer and waited for their return. I even took my shirt off for good measure. It was at this point I really wished I had some tattoos. Soon enough I heard their respective front doors slam, counted to 5 and turned around - sure enough there they were peering out their windows. Clearly they couldn’t get a close enough look from there so out came the deckchairs.

They sat in complete silence staring at the spectacle of my laundry billowing in the summer breeze. Next to my usual array of jeans and shirts I had hung some of my girlfriends laundry items. With considerable skill I had carefully pegged one of her laciest prettiest bras to the line. Then below the bra (with some clever use of pegs) hung a matching suspender belt which in turn supported a tiny wispy little pair of panties and of course a pair of sheer lacy topped black stockings that waved lazily in the breeze, like a very thin lady running in slow motion.

“Hello ladies, lovely day!” I waved cheerily.

If they could have pursed their little faces up anymore they’d have turned them inside out. Vicious old bats.

Blue Rinse Dragons Part II
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Thu 1 Oct 2009, 14:13, 8 replies)

Pat and Les
I live next door to a lovely couple, you couldn't ask for nicer neighbours, problem is I've forgotten who is Pat and who is Les.

Is it Patrick/ Patricia, or is it Lesley / Leslie.

I cant ask them its been too long.
( Terry Oblong There's nobody here but us chickens on, Thu 1 Oct 2009, 14:04, 3 replies)

The problem might be me
My neighbors, a young couple, lowered the blinds and blanketed the windows of their house. Acting out no gothic fantasy, these squeaky-clean kids had a jam session on their porch in which they sang all the verses for "Polly Wolly Doodle".

The self-made closet stays even in the hottest summer weather. I imagine the atmosphere is stifling still and dark as a cave, but they've probably done it because they might have seen me naked as I crossed the windows in order to answer the telephone.

I'm old, fat and ugly. Sorry, kids.
( tromboner cherophobia is my kind of fun, Thu 1 Oct 2009, 14:03, Reply)

Respectable small market/commuter towns attract all sorts!
I live in a flat (a small block of 6) and living next door so far I have had a pikeman (on the weekends) so it wasn't unusual to meet him carrying his spare pikes back into the flat.

Next up it got bought by a bloke to rent out and he let it to a seemingly nice Portugese couple who promptly set up a mini cannabis farm in the spare room, complete with metal bar across the window wired into the mains. Strange how I was always hungry once I got to my door.

Many visits from the police later they got raided properly and dissappeared...it remained empty for a while and then it was taken on by another landlord who got some Ghurkas in. They were great you hardly knew they were there except for the morning Tai Chi in the garden and the fact they were chefs so again I was hungry by the time I got to my door.

Next was a couple with 2 young daughters and no concept of discipline or bedtime so the kids ran riot all hours. Finally now there seems to be a normal happy couple in there and upstairs( I haven't mentioned the flats above as they would require another lengthy post e.g. couple intent on killing each other, another dealer and a bloke throwing himself out of the top window while the police looked on).

Current neighbours thought I was a little antisocial but given the history they realise why I may not have been round to welcome them to the neighbourhood
(cmouse is pondering about life in other jobs, Thu 1 Oct 2009, 13:49, Reply)

Sunday morning entertainment
Picture the scene: My neighbours have decided to take an argument out into the street one Sunday morning as I relax in bed.

The gist of the argument is that the woman has been out all night, apparently at a friend's house, but the man hasn't been able to get hold of and has assumed the worst.

This argument travels up and down the street outside my house.

Let's listen in....

(all delivered at top volume, except the mumble bits)
Her: mumble mumble
Him: Where have you been you slag? (his actual words. I almost died laughing)
Her: I've been at Rosie's house!
Him: I fucking phoned her! you weren't there!
Her: mumble mumble mumble
Him: You're a fucking liar!
Her: mumble mumble mumble
Him: I'm soaking wet!

At this point our protaganists exit the scene.

God knows what he had been doing to get himself wet. As far as I'm aware it hadn't been raining. I've never quite heard another argument like it. This is a slightly abridged version, but the outline is about right. He did scream out "where have you been you slag"
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Thu 1 Oct 2009, 13:43, 2 replies)

Hot & Dirty Safe Sex
Thinking about it, a hundred-or-so people have seen my cock over the years. And some of them - a pitifully small percentage of those people – actually wanted to see my throbbing cervix scratcher; whereas the others sort of had it thrust upon them...

On the road one time in my job as a travelling salesman, I was staying in a Travelodge somewhere in Shropshire. It was one of those courtyard jobs – the type you can see loads of windows of the other guests if you happened to be looking out the window. And this was just what I was up to – late at night, about 2 am, having rifled through the room for any porn some kind soul may have left behind and finding fuck all, I found myself with my head stuck out the open window having a cheeky fag.

It was quiet. Dead. It was a weeknight and the place was almost empty (who the fuck chooses to go to Shropshire?), so I was happily sucking on a cancer stick and surverying the courtyard below. It was dark. It was peaceful. I was bored almost to fucking tears and considering binding my happysack with my belt and shoving an orange in my gob for something to do.

Then, across the courtyard, a light came on. I looked up and saw her. A beautiful – correction - a half-decent-looking – correction - well, a woman. She was stood in her window, apparently gazing out at the courtyard in much the same way I was doing. And she was completely fucking starkers. My hand instantly reached for my knob, an impulse, a reflex reaction. Then I suddenly remembered I had the light on in my room. Fuck – she can see me!!! I can’t just have a bit of super-special-solo-happy-time. She’d see me. And more importantly, I might get arrested.

Then this woman’s gaze appeared to settle on....

... oh, fuck...

...on me.

She was staring right at me, the gentle summer’s breeze playing through her long dark hair. Her fullsome breasts with deep, dark super 3D nipples heaving in the moonlight. And the weird thing was she didn’t move. She didn’t draw back and turn the light off, or at least cover up her wabs. No, she just stood there, regarding me with a serene look on her – actually quite beautiful face. And this is how we remained for several more heartbeats. Her gazing at my face, me gazing at her tits.

Then a thought struck me - she wants me to look at her!!! (Ok, I admit it; I’m not the sharpest tool in the box but I tend to get there in the end).

I allowed my hand to slip down to my groin, I rubbed the wee chap for a bit, feeling him straining against the fabric of my trousers like a zepplin trying to escape from under a blanket. I felt a sharp pain in my other hand, fuck, the fag had burned down to my fingers. Flicking the stub away, I slowly and as sexily as I could manage after spending most of my considerable food allowance in the Beefeater next door, undid several buttons on my shirt. Still the woman, my kinky nightime accomplice, my partner for the evening, gazed back at me.

Fuck it, I thought. She’s showing me the goods, its only fair to reciprocate. So I speedily loosened and lowered my kegs and stood there at full mast, feeling the gentle kiss of the almost celestial summer’s breeze kissing and lapping at my balls.

And then I had a wank.

And then, suddenly bored and wanting to watch footie and eat pizza, I waved goodbye to this lovely lady (she probably wouldn’t have been so lovely if she wasn’t starkers, but there you go), I drew the curtains and went to bed.

It was bloody awkward the next day when I went to settle the bill. The lady from the night before was checking out at the same time. Someone was with her; fuck, her husband!!! I silently whimpered and came close to filling my pants with stinky arsewater. Then she turned and I got a good look at her. And I very nearly properly shat my pants. I felt something strange, something odd, something I don’t feel very often – I felt DIRTY....

I felt like the biggest shit in the world. But then I redeemed myself, I made sure I stepped out of the way as she walked passed.

It’s the only right and proper thing to do when someone’s tapping away at the ground infront of them with a long white cane....
( SpankyHanky, Thu 1 Oct 2009, 13:36, 9 replies)

Not sure what's worse...
...the loud arguing or the noisy intercourse...

I live in a terraced house. One one side we have a couple who live there. One of the couple has some kids from a previous marriage, who stop over a day or two per week. They occasionally have short lived arguments, and sometimes the kids have screaming competitions (no, not a euphemism - literally a competition to see who can scream the loudest) but on it's own, that's not too unbearable because it's not too frequent. However, that couple obviously "love each other very much", as the gentleman's prowess betwixt the bedclothes is clearly illustrated by the lady's frequent gasps, grunts and squeals of ecstatic pleasure reverberating through the walls. Seriously, he's either really good at the performance, or she has superb acting skills. Part of me finds it absolutely hilarious, another part of me finds it annoying. No, I don't press my ear against the wall to listen. I'm not you.

On the other side though, we've got a couple who definitely do not appear to "love each other very much". At a guess, the only reason they're together is because a one-night stand resulted in an unexpected pregnancy and they "did the right thing". Right thing? My arse. The loud arguments usually take place any time between the hours of 11pm and 4am. I say 'arguments', I very rarely hear the bloke's voice, but the woman's shriek penetrates the air like a hot knife through shit. They split up for a while, which gave us about 2 months' respite, but after getting back together for some fucking unfathomable reason, their late night discussions started again.
( Mike Fishcake teamfishcake.co.uk - better than your mum's face, Thu 1 Oct 2009, 13:34, 4 replies)

Lyndon Yorke
About seven years ago I moved in a hurry in to a rented house in Marlow, Bucks. It was all done in a rush (I had to move quickly – see other post for reason) & so didn’t really check out the neighbours before moving.

I found out a couple of months after moving in that my next door neighbour had won an award for being “Britain’s Most Eccentric Man” (Google “Lyndon Yorke” for details). For the first year or so everything was fine – I would occasionally see him tinkering with an old car or something but he and I both kept ourselves to ourselves.

Then I came home from work one day and there it was… a fucking gun turret… four foot high & six foot in diameter on the flat garage roof next to my house. What a fucking eyesore. I first reaction was to move house, but I liked where I lived & didn’t have the money to move either. I contacted the local council – they said it didn’t require planning permission so there was nothing they could do.

The gun turret stayed on the roof for a couple of years, despite my neighbour being fully aware that none of his neighbours liked it being there. Then it blew off the roof in a storm, missing my car by inches. I was delighted & hoped that would be the last of it, but no. Mr Eccentric repaired the cunting thing & put it back on the roof – with an added feature. A bright white rotating light that he would plug in every day as soon as it got dark. Spoke to the council again – the eyesore still didn’t require planning permission so still nothing they could or would do.

So it remained for a few more months & I was constantly getting annoyed by it and also getting tired of my mates taking the piss. It then got worse. The local paper reported that Mr Eccentric was to appear on Ready Steady Cook as part of their Comic Relief week. I dutifully sky+’d the programme ready to have a 1984 style 2 minute hate at the TV when I watched it.

A few minutes in to the programme & Ainsley Harriot is chatting to Mr Eccentric about his “inventions” (see www.lyndonsmachines.co.uk for details of these). The interview was concluded by Ainsley saying “I’d love to be one of your neighbours – then I could pop round whenever I liked to see what you were working on” FFS!!!! Ainsley you annoying cunt – if only you knew! As you can imagine, the piss take from my friends (and my blood pressure) increased even more after this.

The turret remained for another year or so after that, still with the rotating white light on every night. Then apparently one night someone managed to climb up on to the roof, unplug the rotating white light, untie the bungie cords that were holding the gun turret in place & smash it to pieces.

Shame.

The rozzers were called the next morning & wanted to know where I had been the night before (in the pub – honest) and I received quite a lot of accusations from an eccentric, upset neighbour, who clearly didn’t give a fuck that he had imposed his way of life on everyone else for the last few years.

He sold up & moved a couple of months later. I have no idea who’s life he is spoiling now but good luck to them.
(lkjshaglkasjdhglkhjz lkcvl; g;aodh;owih, Thu 1 Oct 2009, 13:34, 5 replies)

JackPOT
Recently my neighbour started to sell weed from over his garden fence.

Normally i wouldn't mind so much but this caused gatherings of youths near my house to score drugs.

He's a bit clumsy and he sells it over the fence so every now and again i'll be walking past and find a 1/8th on the floor which isn't too shabby
(NuffMuff fucks shrubbery, Thu 1 Oct 2009, 13:32, 5 replies)

Things that go "cough" in the night.....
Our house is a new build, so the walls aren't as thick as some 1800s townhouse, but they're not made of paper like the kind of walls you find in shoddy flats. Anyway.. I digress...

At night, our house gets very quiet, silent even! So silent it's possible to hear a mouse trying to stifle a fart!

Not long after moving in, we'd just had a quickie before bed and were settling into bed for a nice night's sleep. Then we heard a banging start up... odd noise given that it's midnight but we listened thinking "What the hell is going on next door???" At first I thought they had decided to start making IKEA furniture at fucking midnight!! Seriously, this sounded like Peter Sutcliffe had just brought a bird home!!!

We promptly figured out that next door's headboard was against the adjoining wall. Now... this would not be a problem normally, but we're trying to get to sleep and we hear her moaning start up as she's clearly getting closer and closer to orgasm... "OH YEAH!! OH YEAH!!!" et al... I'm thinking "Result.... it's not just in porn where women sound like that!" but it ended abruptly....

Cue the following sequence of sounds:

*coughing sounds* ("ahem ahem ahem")
*footsteps*
*lightswitch*
*flush*
*lightswitch*
*silence*

this happened quite a few times until we realised that the coughing sound was him blowing his stack into her. Now I've NEVER known another person to cough as he came. I don't know if it's medical but all kinds of wrong images appeared in our minds when I thought of him taking a military medical and the doctor holding his balls asking him to cough - would he make the doctor's coat whiter than white I wondered (like I said... all kinds of wrong imagery!)

We weren't too bothered when they moved out, purely because we weren't looking forward to the winter coming around and spending each night asking each other whether he had asthma, flu, or had just knocked out another load into/onto his mrs.

The thing that made me laugh the most was one time my gf stood next to the wall listening for a minute (remember I said that the house becomes VERY silent...) heard the tell-tale coughing and said "Well that didn't last long, I'd be demanding another go!" and we heard a female giggle straight afterwards. Needless to say, our neighbour avoided all eye contact with my gf for two weeks after that.

The new lot are better though, they moved the headboard away from the wall but we can still hear her sometimes as she approaches orgasm. But it's better for our sex life given that we've been known to start having sex just after hearing their bed creaking in some sordid competition of "Who can last longer and scream loudest" (and then we see them the next morning as we're all walking to the train station to go to work....)

Length??? I don't suffer premature ejaculation like neighbour no.1 but I think the longest we'd time the hammering sound was 42 seconds.... poor boy, no wonder he coughed to hide his embarrassment!
(Anne Frank started to build a loft conversion on, Thu 1 Oct 2009, 13:31, Reply)

Cherub pisses in your general direction.
My elderly croatian neighbour once stopped me on the front door step to ask my opinion of a fountain he had just put in his front garden. "Should it be facing towards the gate, or is that just rude?" he said with a cheeky smile.

It was decided that the miniature incontinent cherub should be allowed to wave its tiny truncheon of gushing golden love in the direction of guests and passers-by.
(russet_gusset up the reds, Thu 1 Oct 2009, 13:27, Reply)

Whoops
Soon after moving into my first house I saw my neighbour driving a smart remote-control car up and down the road which ran along behind our houses. I thought this would be a good moment to get to know him so I rushed out the back door, ran down the back yard and jumped out into the road shouting a joyful greeting. Unfortunately I jumped straight onto his car, crushing it into a pile of pieces. Whoops.

Luckily within 2 years they had moved out. The new neighbours were very quiet. Until the police broke down their door one Christmas Day to break up the drugs business they had been running from the house.
(Smale is stuffed, Thu 1 Oct 2009, 13:24, Reply)

Neighbour copping an eyeful
My next door neighbour is a bald, fat, annoying son of bitch who enjoys nothing more than being fat, bald and annoying. His wife, however, is quite fit.

A little while back I decided to do some press-ups on the floor of my room (needless to say it almost killed my wimpy body, but nevertheless) and , once I'd finished I stood up in front of my window to admire the guns ten seconds of trying to move up and down had produced in the reflection. My curtains were open, I was in only my undies and I idly looked down next door's garden to see fit wifey, fag in one hand and glass of red in the other, copping an eyeful. Even after our eyes had met briefly she failed to look away, eventually doing the 'I've forgotten something that I left inside' mime and disappearing back into the house.

Needless to say I felt awkward, violated and slightly aroused. Press-ups in the nip every morning now :)
(tattymuff, Thu 1 Oct 2009, 13:22, Reply)

Next door but one...
...is a fucking psycho. And has been in prison. And as I found out recently, for murder. And not by finding out through a local winding me up; this neighbour has been done for murder 9 years ago and was let out after being forced on sedatives on a regular basis.

Oh, and this neighbour's name is Julie. That's right, she's a fucking nutter.

First time I met her she chased some hoodies up the road with a hammer as I was carrying my at the time 4 month old baby into our house. She did come back and apologise about that before saying hello and walking into her house. Alarm bells rung that day.

She's in her early forties now and has an 80 year old boyfriend, who will knock her door for upto 30 minutes at a time while shouting "JULIE! JULIE!!!!!! JUUUUULLLIIIIIEEEE!!!!" for all of us to hear. A doorbell might be anonymously delivered to her this Xmas, just to shut the old cunt up.

They've got such a loving and open relationship though; only last week we witnessed him fingering her on her doorstep at 2 in the afternoon, clear as day. Another neighbour has literally seen her being taken up the chuff in her front garden, which is on a main road with no hedge for all to see.

Last few weeks though have been fun; she's been driving her next door neighbour mad by having music on until 1am which is keeping their children awake all night. The neighbour has made numerous complaints to the local council and Julie initially accused every house on the block (mine included) of trying to get her evicted. Once she cleared that up with us and a few other local residents she found the source of the complaint and threatened to smash their car up. Which is a nice thing to do to a parent of 2 who is expecting a third.

That same night I heard a noise out the front of my house and caught two hoodies smashing the neighbour's car up. Me and the neighbour's husband chased them off but the damage had been done. As we didn't see their faces, the Police advised that they couldn't really arrest anyone, but the neighbours have seen Julie with some lads earlier that day who have been involved before and are now on constant lookout every night.

That's the way to live, looking over our shoulders due to some neurotic psycho living two doors down, might be worth trying to move again.

*looks up Gumtree*

Hmmm, this Bates Hotel looks nice...
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Thu 1 Oct 2009, 13:19, Reply)

I have neighbours, yay I'm relavant!
I have just moved with the lovely girlfriend and our for dogs to a nice dog friendly road. Dog friendly except for the cunt that lives next door!

Within two hours of moving in he had called the previous estate agents to complain. Now the council are involved. He is targeting just our dogs not the other six that live in the adjoining houses.

What a cunt. I might wait till midnight and paint his house with the contents of the dog bin. Bwahahaha.

The rest of the neighbours a lovely people, they all say hello when passing. It's a very quiet area and feels safe.

Not funny but relevant.

Please feel free to make your own length joke up, ta. Mines huge though.
( Aenesis, Thu 1 Oct 2009, 13:18, 1 reply)

I was a little cunt
when I was a student, probably still am, anyway.

My neighbours came round with a gift for me, a nice pair of headphones. "Why do you have to play your music so loud?" they asked. "Because otherwise I can't hear it when I'm hoovering" I replied.
( stopmeandslapme Cometh the hour, cometh your mum, Thu 1 Oct 2009, 13:16, 2 replies)

My house backs onto a field
and last week, a group of around 16 travelling people, housed in just two caravans, moved into the field. I kept a close eye on them as I know they have a reputation for robbing, vandalism, physical and mental abuse,hosting dog fights and not washing. I took the liberty of recording a diary of events that happened, and this is just one extract:

8am: I was woken rather abruptly by shouting coming from behind my house. On looking out of the window I saw two large caravans parked up in the farmers’ field. Numerous flea ridden dogs were barking at one another, kids were throwing stones at cars as they drove past and there were adults sat idly around smoking, and drinking strong lager. I also witnessed a 30-something year old lady squatting over a bucket and releasing a torrent of what I can only describe as ‘gravy’. The pikeys have officially landed.

8.10am: I had to duck down quickly as one of the main pikey men saw me spying. I burnt my forehead on the radiator and had to apply a damp flannel. I held this in place with a bulldog clip attached to my fringe so I had both hands at the ready, should I need to use them. The children were called by the elder lot for breakfast and they sat round a fire under a gazebo to eat.

8.20am: The gazebo caught alight and in turn set fire to one of the older, slower dogs. 3 men and a teenage boy threw the burning remnants of both the dog and the gazebo over the fence of a neighbour who lives 2 door down from me. Luckily, it landed in the pond. I went down for breakfast; poached egg on toast.

8.50am: I saw two pikey girls aged around 16 jacking up behind one of the caravans. One appeared to have a small goatee beard. I wondered if they could be part of a circus. My thoughts were interrupted with the sight of one dog tearing a rabbit to shreds, whilst the rest of the pikey clan whooped and cheered with joy. The rabbit was then skinned and given to the children to play with. They used it a football. One boy kicked it with such force, the rabbit liver shot out and landed on the roof of one of the caravans.

9.35am: Numerous beer cans littered the field now. I contemplated phoning the police but thought I’d observe a little longer. 3 of the younger children decided to drop their trousers and bare their backsides to me. All 3 had worms, I could see them dangly free quite clearly, even at a distance. One of the younger pikeys pulled one free and hurled it into my back garden. It seemed to stretch out as it flew through the air.

9.45am: I moved into the back garden to get a closer look. I have a nice peep hole in the back fence. Music was now blaring from the make shift camp site, it sounded like that new rave techno shit all the kids seem to be listening to nowadays. I accidentally trod on the tapeworm. It was slippery and of a rubbery texture. It looked like a cross between a condom and a jellyfish but smelt like Swindon. I nearly vomited but managed to contain it which caused a burning sensation in my stomach.

10.00am: The lady who I had previously seen relieving herself in a bucket ran over to one of her friends, who was sat upright on the floor, with her back against the wheel of the caravan. She had a distressed look on her face and was panting and sweating quite alarmingly. She had a rather nice red and yellow chequered dress on though, with a dandelion in her hair.

10.03am: Said lady gave birth and followed through at the same time. The dogs began the clean-up operation whilst the men opened a can of lager each in celebration. The sound of Whigfield now filled the air.

10.15am: As all the family crowded round the newest member of their pikey clan, the two biggest men, both in their late forties, overweight and with lumberjack style shirts on, made their way inside one of the caravans. They appeared a few minutes later carrying something wrapped in a blanket. The blanket was put onto the grass and unfurled, revealing a small, disfigured cripple boy. The young lad smiled at the baby, and then pulled a tuft of hair from his own head, and a tooth from his mouth before crawling into a small puddle. His legs look like they were fused together, like some sort of freakish mermaid. He had sores and welts covering his scaly skin.

10.25am: Some of the other children began prodding the freak with bamboo canes. I admit I laughed a little when one of them gouged his eye! This was the highlight of my morning as not much else happened for the rest of it, only foul language and the consumption of more alcohol. I made my way back inside to play scalextric and make an artichoke sandwich.

2.00pm: I must have dozed off. I awoke to the smell of burning. I searched for the source of this smell and through the glass pane in my front door could see a small fire. I opened the door and stamped manically on the fire to put it out. Eventually I succeeded. I was about to go back inside when two pikey children decided to pop up from behind my front wall and hurl faeces at me. I cowered behind my wheely bin until they had run out of ammunition, the last of which cannoned off the wall behind me and landed, still steaming, next to my shoe.

2.10pm: I ran back inside my house and went back to the upstairs window. Two cars were now in the field, a blue Austin Maestro and silver Vauxhall Cavalier. I couldn’t see if they had tax discs from where I was, but I doubt they did. There was also a frail donkey, a small tent had been set up, and a naked man in a wizards hat. This disturbed me somewhat. I could hear him shouting “Come on children, who wants to play with my wand?!”

2.15pm: The naked wizard man disappeared inside the tent with 2 children, a girl and a boy, whilst their parents looked on. I assumed wizard man to be a relative. A bonfire was lit and most of the other pikeys started throwing deodorant cans onto this. As they exploded, the kids were jumping out of the way. I noticed the small freak laughing manically under one caravan.

2.45pm: The bearded lady also gave birth and the previous ritual was carried out. Wizard man offered his congratulations by knocking his helmet across the chops of the mum thrice, before disappearing back into his tent. One pikey, who I presumed to be the dad, lit a roll up and nodded in appreciation. The mum looked tired from giving birth but exuberant. Her dress was tattered and her withered breasts could be clearly seen. I took a couple of polaroids.

3.30pm: One of the teenage boys turned up on a tractor, obviously stolen from the farmers’ yard. A few of the younger girls started throwing sanitary towels at him so he chased them around the campsite, narrowly missing the crippled child who was now rolling around on the ground, wrapped in his duvet. He reminded me of a large grub worm as he moved about.

4.04pm: Most of the children were now on the rampage, pulling down the fences that separate the gardens from the field. These were being used as firelight. An elderly gentleman from up the road went to remonstrate but was forced back into his house by one of the dads, who picked up a rake and began thrusting it aggressively towards him. I heard the smashing of at least two windows and I was very nervous that my property may get damaged as well. I decided to call the police, who confirmed to me that they had already received several complaints and were on their way already.

4.30pm: On their way my arse! The police finally arrived to the field which was now burnt, littered and covered in putrid mess. I was surprised as the pikeys moved on with minimum fuss. Initially, a few glass bottles were hurled at the police cars, but when the police retaliated and shot the wizard man in the knee cap, the pikeys’ fun was over. Unfortunately, so was mine. Whilst I was scared at the thought of these people entering me and my house, it was exciting to watch, and I got some great photos of the occasion. I still hope they never come back though.
(Monkey the Chicken Twitter: death_stairs, Thu 1 Oct 2009, 13:11, 12 replies)

My neighbors are quite nice actually

( moohalaa, Thu 1 Oct 2009, 13:10, 1 reply)

Musical Madness
My neighbour used to teach piano and violin lesson to all the girls in my primary school for a small fee.

He was also a pedo and used to have sexy time with the kiddies.

He got caught and went to prison and when he was gone me and my brother smashed his car in and demolished his shed.

He's out now and I hope he doesn't read this.
(NuffMuff fucks shrubbery, Thu 1 Oct 2009, 13:03, Reply)

Noisy Yah Students
So while living in Aberdeen in a shared student house with a flat of English Yah Wankers upstairs,we gradually became more and more annoyed with them. The main issue was them dumping their rubbish in the stairwell and bits of razor blades etc falling out of the bags onto the floor. We'd have to move them out to the bins at the back.

So we hit on a great idea... we found the water stopcock and proceeded to gradually turn their water off over the next 7 days. When they finally did find out why their water had reduced to a trickle we were challenged. I remember opening the flat door and being asked if I turned off their water. With a straight face I said no and asked my flatmate stood in the kitchen if our water was working whereby he turned the tap on to gush fresh water in full view of Yah Wanker. :)

When they started playing lots of music late at night before exams we went to the garage and bought one of those "the world's best pipe band music" CD classics that only a garage can sell, returned home and put it onto the home made valve amp and home made uber speakers of my audiophile flatmate upped the volume, arranged CD repeat and went out drinking for 6 hours.

On refreshed return the request for it to be turned down was because the one with the bedroom above was having difficulty sleeping as his bed was vibrating across the room with the noise. :)

Yah wankers tamed. Yay!
( b3tz, Thu 1 Oct 2009, 12:57, 3 replies)

Salsa!
I was wise enough to buy an apartment about 4 years ago and my upstairs neighbours weren't far behind. Sadly to get them to part with their cash the housebuilders agreed to install laminated flooring (which is against the 'rules') and now I have to listen to them lump about from 6am to 1am most days.

Oh and they also teach salsa classes up there. Oh, and I have no idea who can need to put their high heels on when they awake at 6am? Oh and do you really need to walk about THAT much? Seriously?

/rant
(Galahad is out of his gourd on yellow bentines, Thu 1 Oct 2009, 12:56, Reply)

I have neighbours.
This is the first QOTW post that isn't a lie.

Be proud.
(Dr. Geoff Honkington woof, Thu 1 Oct 2009, 12:52, 2 replies)

My mate lives in a Council Flat
His next door neighbour is an acloholic Irishman conspiracy nutjob.

He doesn;t belive England was involved in the slave trade.

His old next door neighbour used to scream and bang against the walls randomly. That is until he stopped and his room began to smell....

Yes he was dead and my mate couldn;t stay in his flat for over a week cos of the smell.

Not funny. Sorry.
( Crap Little Monkey Deathstar, so good they built it twice, Thu 1 Oct 2009, 12:50, Reply)

Not now!
I'll reply to this later. My favourite soap is just about to start on Channel 5.
( SeasonTicketless is too often the statue, and rarely the pigeon., Thu 1 Oct 2009, 12:49, Reply)

oh oh oh
I have just purchased a house, for the first time ever I now have neighbours all of my own, wheeee!!

They don't do anything interesting i'm afraid
(Halfy By light alone, Thu 1 Oct 2009, 12:49, Reply)

Second! Yay!
I used to watch Neighbours all the time....

..Until the magistrate told me to stop.
( Sextant goes to him is emotionally erect, on this day, Thu 1 Oct 2009, 12:47, Reply)

First!
OK, now for a story.
I've no idea how our neighbours put up with us actually! Between Dad shouting, me working on old motorbikes and my little bother playing/arguing/attempting to kill each other they must have all gone deaf.
( Greenbat, Thu 1 Oct 2009, 12:46, 3 replies)