It’s just a bloody noise…!

I have developed a healthy aptitude at growing old and grisled…and have long since had my hopes and spirit broken by the weight of the world.

So as you can imagine, I was not best bastard pleased when a new couple moved in next door with their ‘modern ways’…

On the very day they moved in, from my vantage point (peering creepily through the curtains) I spotted them dragging their ‘oh-so-fucking-trendy’ furniture in, one bit at a time. This was bad enough to set me to engage ‘Meldrew Mode’, but within about half a shagging hour of them putting a few items of furniture in the house…

The fucking music started.

That’s if you can call it ‘music’. ‘Bump, bump, bloody bump’ was more like what I heard. Bouncing off my bloody eardrums, each note was like being hoofed in the head by a horse with steel toecaps. It was such a din, such a racket that I could barely hear myself complain.

I went round to introduce myself to the couple and have a ‘quiet word’…

“Oi, you fucking pair of cunt biscuits!” I yelled, waving my fist and trying my best to make my eyes bulge menacingly out of their sockets. “Turn that fucking gobshite down or I’ll get medieval on your boney asses!”

“Oh, we’re dreadfully sorry” they simpered; “But we’re both hard of hearing”.

“I don’t give a fuck if you lost your ears in a bizarre kitten felching ritual, turn the bollocks down!” I roared.

They tried to explain: “The thing is, sir, we’ve both got brain tumours, and don’t have very long to live…our music is our one thing we can both enjoy”

“Oh, for fucks sake” I said.”…Just don’t have it too cunting LOUD!” I bellowed before walking home.

I had not even got through the door when it started again. Oh dear

This meant fucking WAR!

Now, a trait I have genetically inherited from my dad is a gift for invention. You can shove your ‘hadron colliders’ up your brown tea-towel holder, I had long been dabbling with a machine that can rip through the very fabric of time, space, light and sound…not very successfully so far I grant you, but I was certain that I was near achieving one of my goals…

conquering sound.

So, in controlled lab conditions I put on some music and some safety goggles, then after a few minor adjustments, I set the machine into motion.

With trepidation, I pressed the button…

*boom*

*silence*

I had done it! – I had successfully managed to tear the fabric of sound! The bubble of pures noiselessness rippling through the lab was a joy to behold!

However, before I had a chance to consider the practical applications and future good that this invention could provide to the world, I was distracted by the wankers next door putting their godawful music on full blast.

Enraged, I cranked the machine up to 11, turned it towards next door, and hit the button…

*boom*

*silence*

Ha! That’ll teach the noise-polluting motherfuckers!

Within a minute of blissful quiet being restored, they were straight round, banging on my door, screaming like banshees and insisting I restore the ‘gift of sound’ to their home.

Because I’m such a nice guy, I relented the first time, but with a stern warning that I would not hesitate to use the machine again if they took the piss.

Unfortunately, they did take the piss. Regularly.

What followed was a tempestuous relationship. Every time the shitehawk neighbours put their music on, I would activate the sound-tearing device, then they would come round and whinge like bitches.

In fact, every time I used the machine it was a case of ‘I’ve torn din, tumour pair rants’.

But I’m pleased to say there was a happy ending to this story.

Yes, they’re both dead now.


Disclaimer: Obviously this works better if you say ‘tumour’ like Arnie in Kindergarten cop i.e ‘Too-ma’, and not ‘Chew-mer’…oh, and usual rules apply…I’m very, tragicially sorry…
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Thu 7 May 2009, 10:30, 9 replies)

I'm far too busy at work today
to read this sort of thing. But I'm a trooper and I found the time - nice work, matey! Have a click from your truly.
( SpankyHanky, Thu 7 May 2009, 10:39, closed)

You're very kind...

I now feel guilty for wasting your valuable time with this turgid pile of spang-puke
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Thu 7 May 2009, 10:43, closed)

I'm attempting to sort out
building regulations certificates on a few properties in Cotton in Suffolk - wooo!

Though I really am pleased with my professionalism.

I haven't laughed or sniggered once...

The properties are on Cock Road.
( SpankyHanky, Thu 7 May 2009, 10:46, closed)

^^Arf^^

I think I've heard of that place...

Is it near Mimsy Street?

Or Brown Alley?
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Thu 7 May 2009, 10:56, closed)

I sold a house last month
On Cockering Road. On the sign outside someone has painted over the 'e'

Oh and Pooflake.....

*SPANG*
( Anthropos Was making beer on, Thu 7 May 2009, 11:22, closed)

I regret the loss of the old fashioned tea towel holder.
( enoughblueskyforsailorstrousers, Thu 7 May 2009, 10:43, closed)

^^ me too!
I had to explain it to my kids..
(Beer Elf Thought this was like a campfire, anyhow, on, Thu 7 May 2009, 10:44, closed)

*Accepts apologies*
*Picks up spanging pan*

*Clicks*
( TheMagicDwarf is back like ballroom dancing, Thu 7 May 2009, 11:02, closed)

There should be some sort of Olympics for punnage.
We'd beat the merkin and Chinese feckers hands down with you on our side.
( girlinthehole, Thu 7 May 2009, 11:22, closed)