Noise
First posting so forgive me for spelling/talking crap.

Next 3 houses from us are rented. Last lot of neighbours weren't too bad apart from being fat ugly cnuts who screamed at their kids day and night.

A few months ago we had about 20 young Poles move in - 2 couples with kids but mainly young single men so cant complain. They invited me and Mr Stunt round to their parties at the weekend and offered us lovely polish vodka and offered to share their large stash of porn DVDs. Fantastic.

However, as it turns out they are pissed up stone deaf twats who play shite euro-techno-crap at all hours, and despite us asking them to "turn it down a bit", dont seem to have grasped the fact they are pissing us off big stylee. Despite Mr Stunt going round t'other day and calling them all a bunch of bastards.

I wonder what the polish is for bastard?

Off on hols 2moro for 2 weeks so have encouraged step-son to have large extra noisy party til 7am every day. Hurrah!
(cupid stunt, Thu 1 Sep 2005, 22:50, Reply)

About as mad as they come.....
Being a very trusting kind of chap I let my neighbour have a key to my backdoor. Should I get locked out or he need to borrow the lawn mower (he cuts both our gardens). Much to my surprise shortly after handing over the key my empty cans and bottle started to disappear; I asked him about this to which he told me he was recycling them. I could cope with that being a ecco friendly (by proxy)guy.

Then my bits of washing up started to get done, again no skin of my nose, but I did ask him to stop. It all came to a head when I got a new girlfriend, who was home from work one day. Imagine her surprise, when washing up mid morning, she was surprised to see my neighbour coming through the backdoor with his marigolds on and a dejected look on his face; saying 'I do the washing up'.

I now leave the door bolt on.

This is just about one in a a few hundred mad things I could relate...
:o)
( benkai Doing nothing as of ..., Thu 1 Sep 2005, 22:46, Reply)

Eddie
The guy who lived in the next room when i was at university. The usual stuff very thin walls, loud nasty sex with his loud nasty girlfreind etc. etc. etc.

However he also suffered from insomnia (according to him) and would sit in his room at night watching the same Billy Connoly video over and over again, for the entire year.

Another time he burst into my room at about 1.30 am shouted "no he isn't wanking and then walked out.

he was a dick.
(cammy, Thu 1 Sep 2005, 20:47, Reply)

next to our across-the-street neighbors,
we've got a bunch of fucking psychos.
for the first 16 years of my life, i didn't know their real last name. it turned out to be stillerman, but we all got so used to calling them the screamers we forgot that.
screaming all the time, they live up to their name mucho.
our across-the-street neighbors have called the police not once, but twice, because they thought someone was being murdered there. both times.
we've never spoken to them, in 23 years of living across from them; before my sister and i were born.
when my mom passed away, they gave us a plate of chocolate chip cookies. and they tasted disgustingly salty.
oh. i almost forgot. one night during a blizzard, mr screamer came home from work to find himself locked out. instead of knocking the door and asking politely, "honey, why am i locked out? it's snowing very hard out here," he parked his car facing the house, turned his high beams on, and after honking very loudly on his horn, he stood on the roof of his car and started yelling and swearing at the top of his lungs.
this went on for hours.
i don't know what happened, but i guess she let him in eventually.
that's it.
no apology for length.
(USER No: 21515...FUCK YOU TO FUCK YOU FU see profile for limited time offer., Thu 1 Sep 2005, 19:54, Reply)

Last hurrah
My other awful neighbours... well, there was the guy who left his curtains open whilst having sex. Trouble was, my room was next to his, and I could see into his window. And I didn't have any curtains at the time- the last thing you expect to see when looking up from reading "Mostly Harmless" is your next door neighbour making the beast with two backs with his missus. Of course, the rumour went round the uni that I filmed them with my webcam. Trouble was, I didn't own a webcam at the time. So was I the scary neighbour, or the neighbour who was scared (or scarred). Take your pick...

::EDIT::

What's happened to the next question?
( jim_bob can herd cats., Thu 1 Sep 2005, 18:14, Reply)

cockney ball-sack
Moved into halls when i started uni, am the last one to arrive at the flat, seemed like a nice bunch of lads... chatting to ian brown looky likey.
me: what course you on?
cbs: philosophy
me: nice, you play guitar then?
cbs: yeah, big time, i write all my own stuff.
doesn't sound too bad? list of his offences over the next year.
- Pissing over the freezer, the tv, kitchen cupboards and in the bin
- Destroying said tv, bout 3/4's of my CD collection, smoking my buddha, drinking my beer, eating my food.
- Developing crack habit.
- Playing same 3 tunes on his guitar and singing along badly at 4 am when he couldn't sleep.
- Sitting on sofa in his boxer shorts, scratching his psoriasis, and leaving flaky dead skin everywhere. ick.
- Gets notion that i owe him money, stalks me when i go to my mates house, on the way he confronts me, then throws his house keys at me, misses by a country mile, hitting a local lad's car.
so glad to be rid of him... apologies for length and girth
(themanfromdelmonte, Thu 1 Sep 2005, 18:06, Reply)

wascaly weasel,
speaking of sword carrying loons.....

There was a guy I knew called Albert, who was a 6 foot ex-doorman for a few clubs in Swansea. He managed to to scare the neighbours one sunday morning by jumping in their garden in only his boxer shorts and another pair over his head, while weilding an authentic full size samurai blade screaming "Albert, warrior princess!!!" and swinging it wildly.

Paints an odd picture in the head, that does.
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Thu 1 Sep 2005, 18:03, Reply)

thank god they moved...
when we moved to this house 9 years ago, we were confronted with the most lovely neighbours. I even watched the world cup final at their house, but it turned nasty when my mother didnt accompany them to gardening club...
rumours were spread around the village of my father being a pyschotic wife and child beater who would continue until my mother got the courage to speak up. If we walked on the path, she would come out with her broom and sweep us off, and swear at us out of her bedroom window if we were in our back garden until we went inside.

But they were a lovely old couple really...
(fishforkbuggery, Thu 1 Sep 2005, 18:03, Reply)

Weasel
Its never good when people die. cos they only end up smelling more.....
(Oops....did I say that out loud cos I really bloody want to., Thu 1 Sep 2005, 17:02, Reply)

My neighbor back home (Cincinnati, Ohio) is the one and only Neil Armstrong.
No joke. He's a very secretive man, and only emerges once a year to ride his John Deere tractor on other people's grass while wearing a long, Christmas Carol-esque gown.

He calls me the "maple leaf kid" and I have no idea why. Very scary.
( Digeridude Lord Wellington's Beef Trapeze, Thu 1 Sep 2005, 15:21, Reply)

Weegies at New Year
Ok this is stretching it a bit but the neighbouring town to mine was Glasgow, years ago my mate worked in London, civil service, met a bunch of lads and they came up for a Scot’s new year. We got the train and reassured them that Glasgow was a lovely place now , no trouble , oh no siree. We’re 5 mins off the train 6 at night and we’re walking along a main street when we hear an almighty smash and as we come up to a road, theres a ned lifting the till out of a golden egg (a primitive McD) and legging it down the street with it under his arm, to cheers from us. Till the mains cable went tight and he flew backwards and landed on his *rse, yahoo, he got up took a handful of cable wrenched it out and off he went again, a bit more wobbily this time, while we p*ssed ourselves. Thing was this was 2 days after new year, the shops had been shut for 2 days and there would be n*ff all in the till.
(montyzuma, Thu 1 Sep 2005, 15:21, Reply)

BadGirlActsGood
No, it was a Good Thing when he died.

I used to have a loud drunken tramp outside my bedsit of about 10 years ago - he used to get hammered and then scream until about 3 in the morning. He died the day after I thought to myself "The next time he does that I'm going to go downstairs and stab him." Maybe I sleepwalk...

I am now the scary neighbour. I own 5 medieval swords and regularly have swordfights in my back garden. My favourite game is "Knifey-Swordy", a variant of cricket using longswords and throwing knives.
(Wascally Weasel now with 100% fewer jokes., Thu 1 Sep 2005, 15:11, Reply)

Am I the scary neighbour?
I may be jinxed as at least 4 of my next door neighbours have died. The first two were a tragic teen cancer death followed by suicide of distraught father some months later. The second was a tragic climbing wall accident (inside the house though, which was a bit peculiar, to say the least), and finally a hero's death: the yummy chap from the next door barbershop leapt off Hungerford Bridge to save his girlfriend who had fallen, but both drowned.
If only the jinx would extend to my psycho downstairs neighbour who regularly smashes up her flat, the communal lift and sometimes bangs on my door in the night muttering about knives...
(Hermioninny, Thu 1 Sep 2005, 15:04, Reply)

Hey YellowCar
So are you saying that you used to live next door to Mr Trebus?

I thought he was really sweet. Bizarre, smelly n foreign...but still sweet.

It was sad when he died.
(Oops....did I say that out loud cos I really bloody want to., Thu 1 Sep 2005, 14:48, Reply)

Ominous letters
Not really bad neighbours, but kind of creepy. My gf and I moved into her brother's flat for two weeks while he was away. We knew none of the neighbours, didn't even see anyone around to be honest.

One day I woke up to find a note pinned outside our front door. It was illegible save for my name, and the words 'or else'.

I was scared. No one we knew had done it, and the block of flats isn't accessible unless you're buzzed in.

Fortunately I didn't get mysteriously killed.
(sporky, Thu 1 Sep 2005, 14:46, Reply)

Lovely Brian.
When I was at university, my housemates and I were often visited by our next door neighbour Brian. He was an aged gent of around 60 years, and although he was pushing pensionable age, his demeanour and life attitude was always of a sprightly mid twenty year old.

He would come at seemingly any point throughout the day (or night) and tell whoever was about at the time a tirade of tales that would put Baron Munchausen to shame. He would regale us with tales of his hikes throughout the Nepalese mountains in bandit country with only a samurai sword for protection, his hunting expeditions of his youth in the Masai Mara and of his skill in martial arts, now lost due to age and physical decay. No matter what time of the day he arrived, we were always happy to see him, as the stories he told, whilst being clearly lies, were always weaved in a way as to completely enchant us.

One day, however, certain members of the house started asking for proof of his tales, some tangible evidence of that which he spoke. Brian, with a shrug of his shoulders wandered next door and bring back in a large canvas sack a veritable arsenal of antiquated swords and rifles. The bag was huge. Quite how he managed to drag it in at his age I don't know. What made it worse, was that whilst the items were clearly old and unusable, no-one knew if they were ornamental - the props an old man had amassed to give credence to his tales, or if he was actually speaking with a grain of truth. He would then go though each one and with a grin that I hope never to be one the receiving end of again, would inform us of the best ways to kill, main or incapacitate a man with each one. Usually with very descriptive mimes as accompaniment.

Our immediate reaction to this new development was to feign sudden tiredness and inform Brian it was getting a little late. Afterwards, we would suddenly become very busy whenever Brian came around, the only time he would make it past the front door being if our excuses we too feeble, and he had proven to not be carrying anything sharp.

The last time we saw Brian was just before we left university for good. He knocked on the door, and asked us to keep hold of his fishing rods.
'Why?' we asked of him.
'I'm going to kill my other next door neighbours for playing the music too loudly, and I don't want the police impounding the rods if they arrest me.'
And then he was off, waving us a cheery goodbye as he went to wreak havoc over his unfortunate neighbours.

Aaah Brian. But what I'll mostly remember is the laughter. That and the gut wrenching fear.
( Prof. Slocombe, Thu 1 Sep 2005, 14:28, Reply)

curley wurley
my friend lives next door to a couple of nutters who scream at each other non stop about various bizarre things. Her fave was when the male partner was heard to scream "Curley fucking Wurley" repeatedly at his equally insane other half. It's been a couple of years now but I still try to work out how this argument could have started.
(bluebiscuit, Thu 1 Sep 2005, 12:55, Reply)

To all Edmund Trebus lovers
He may have been a nice old man, but I'm sure you wouldn't want to live next to a chap who crapped in his garden which was full of rats nests and had rubbish 20 feet high.

It took a number of 40 cubic meter skips to empty his garden full of rubbish. His house was structurally unsafe.

It may be very funny watching him batter a copper with his walking sticks as they tried to take him away so the council could empty his house and garden but living next door to him no thanks.

If he lived next door to someone you know then its funny.
(Yellow Car is now red, Thu 1 Sep 2005, 12:55, Reply)

too late....
but still - couple one side of our semi ( the attatched side), she is 80 and senile, he walks about with an australian cork hat on - greatest neighbours ever - party, loud noise - no complaints etc etc, in 8 years always say hello despite my drunken waking ups on the lawn etc

However, the couple on the other side - she works, he is retired and bored. Need i say more....

Nothing to do all day but bitch about anything and everything, from sorting oput the ants in my garden that are getting into his garden!! - the whole street is infested, my not washing my car often enough (his gets washed monday, wednesday and friday - grass gets cut tuesday thursday and saturday, sunday the grandkids come round...)

Fucking get a life you sad bastard....

Actually mentioning this point to him brought a slamming back door and two months of peace before he started again.
(Aleister Crowleys Badger Nothing to see here, Thu 1 Sep 2005, 12:48, Reply)

Revolution!
The chap next door to me was Russian, and as mad as a sack of ferrets. He drove a taxi, and had his hair cut in the Travis Bickle stylee, and always, always wore combat gear.

He kept banging on about his "Mother Russia" and how, one day, it would be free of the "tyrant communists" that were destroying his once-proud nation. He often twitched disturbingly as he told us this, on a near daily basis.

"I am fully trained in all armed and unarmed combats" he told us, and the furniture in his flat consisted of nothing except a mattress and a multi-gym. In short, he was really bringing down the value of our place.

When the hardline communists tried to oust Gorbachev in the early 1990s, he decided that the time had come for him to return to Moscow and fight for a Russia free from the Soviet Union.

He was arrested with a suitcase full of nunchuks at Heathrow and I never saw him again.
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 1 Sep 2005, 12:45, Reply)

no thankyou
Lived next door to a young couple who seemed very nice.
They invited me round once for a drink and it was very plesant, the guy said to me we have loads of videos you can borrow anytime you want.
Me thinking what a lovely neighbourly jesture until realising that all the videos were of them having sex.
Needless to say I was busy next time they asked me if I wanted to come round for a drink!!
(Smumps, Thu 1 Sep 2005, 12:42, Reply)

BadGirlActsGood
It's Mr Trebus. He fackin' rules!
Yellow Car, you'll be struck down for implying Mr Trebus was a scum sucking neighbour. The man was a saint. Well maybe not a saint, but he kicked arse. 80 years plus and climbed up scaffolding that they put up to clear his house out. He was mental and dangerous and probably smelled. But I loved him oh how I did love him... *sob*
(tweebianmonkey Should be known as Widget, Thu 1 Sep 2005, 12:38, Reply)

My best mate
used to live in an ex-council house with his family.

There was this really nice guy who lived across the street who would always chat to us.

Then one day we were upstairs and were alerted to rustlings outside. Turns out the neighbour across the street wasn't as nice as we thought and there was a load of armed police busting him for selling heroin and other hardcore drugs.

Luckily we never accepted "sweets" from him
( wigstar, Thu 1 Sep 2005, 12:37, Reply)

My old neighbours
Were crazy (Bless em) She used to swear there were a family of little people living under the car in her driveway, and they were stealing her sugar.

To be fair, the dwarves did always seem to have more than enough sugar...
(DrSoloManiac, Thu 1 Sep 2005, 12:10, Reply)

Swansea
My sister lived in Swansea, in a flat below an antisocial wanker. As well as his awful loud music, she could also hear him having sex.

This is the weird bit though, he used to whistle. Not all the way through, mind, just at the...er...moment of completion.

I don't know if anyone ever slept with him twice.
(Pachey, Thu 1 Sep 2005, 10:43, Reply)

Badger badger badger
I got home one evening to find my wife staring out of the back window into next door's garden, watching Mr NextDoor disembowel a badger on his lawn.

Mrs BeerPowered: Urgh!! What's that?!!!
Me, looking: A spleen, I think.
(BeerPoweredNoiseFrenzy, Thu 1 Sep 2005, 9:33, Reply)

Bloody nieghbours
Way back when, while I was living at the other end of my wonderful council estate, we had a small boy living next door. he was one of those lads that needed a good dose of ritailyn with his Coco-puffs, know what I mean? Little bastard kept on throwing stones at our windows and climbing over his garden fence naked. Me and my brothers would have literaly throw his naked arse back over.
i bumped into his sister a year or so ago, didn't realise who she was, exept that she was a pretty fit brunette a few years older then me. She was a bit drunk, asking for twenty pence for the Minstrals machine in the corner of the White Hart. I offer her the coin, and she turns on me shouting her mouth off about how she remembers me when I were a lad and what a little sod I was and stuff... shit me up I tell you....
(I think I've strayed from the piont a little, but be fair, it's nearly 6am....)
( Captain Tripps is your taxloss lover from Liverpool, Thu 1 Sep 2005, 5:51, Reply)

Not my neighbour, but...
...my ambulance was sent to an apartment block to assess an intellectually impaired lady who could only state that she was "unwell".
I felt unwell too when I entered her apartment as a rather offensive smell reached my olfactory centre.
It was this smell that was making her feel ill, so I thought: easy, locate the smell, remove the smell, problem fixed. I checked her bins and her fridge and her laundry but couldn't find the source. I noticed that the smell was worse nearer her front door and even worse outside of her front door. It then dawned on me that the smell was coming from the apartment opposite and after a forced entry courtesy of the police we discovered the deceased and decomposing body of her neighbour.

We told our patient what the source of the bad smell was and she just looked at us poker faced. After an uncomfortable silence she said "He smells like that deliberately you know. He’s getting his own back because he didn’t like my onions”.

Of course, how stupid of me not to realise.
(emadex thinks the world will end on, Thu 1 Sep 2005, 5:44, Reply)

A double whammy...
My old place was weird. On one side lived an old Korean war vet named Joe. Now, on the floor level of the building was a restaurant, so my roomate and I were there a lot of the time. So was Joe. He'd grab the bottles of ketchup and guzzle the red goo back. He'd lick his finger and dip it into the ashtray, and then proceed to eat the ashes. He'd randomly shit himself, or all over the restroom. Back at the apartment, he'd blast big band music and scream at his budgies - all day, every day.

One night I was trying to sleep when I heard a loud bang, and then heard Joe yelling and moaning for nearly an hour. My roomate kept banging on the wall and telling him to shut up. This went on for nearly 8 hours. The next day I find out that he had been changing a lightbulb and fell off his chair and couldn't get up. He died a week later.

On the other side of lived a weird old lady who was off her rocker. One morning I was about to walk out the door when I see a note with $5 taped to it. The note was addressed to 'David' and said something to the tune of 'I love you'. I had forgot about it for a few days before I noticed that at least twice a week a note with varying denominations attached were appearing under my door. A while later my roomate finds out that the crazy lady thought my roomate was this mythical 'David', and was in love with him.
( Hosehead, Thu 1 Sep 2005, 3:24, Reply)