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This is a question Neighbours

I used to live next door to a pair of elderly naturists, only finding out about their hobby when they bade me a cheerful, saggy 'Hello' while I was 25 feet up a ladder repairing the chimney. Luckily, a bush broke my fall, but the memory of a fat, naked man in an ill-fitting wig will live with me forever.

(, Thu 1 Oct 2009, 12:41)
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This question is now closed.

Not funny; but everyone needs good neighbors...
When I lived at home, I was a keen amateur DJ. For years we lived in a semi next door to an older couple, who spent 2 weeks out of every month at their country home. Absolute bliss, I could play as loud as I liked, and party at the weekend, with no complaints for 2 weeks every month.

Roll forward 6 years, and I'm trying to soundproof my garage as the neighbors don't like the drum kit.....
(, Sat 3 Oct 2009, 2:20, 1 reply)
I'm a student and live in a shared house with 4 of my mates - good times are had by all of us.

However there are five girls living downstairs (i.e. in our basement) and they are Party Animals. Frequently they come up to our flat at 4am and bang on our doors until one of us lets them in and gives them some chat.

This has become very annoying seeing as we all have 9am lectures every day and these girls seem to never go into uni at all.

It's not funny, particularly, but it's getting on my tits and I needed to vent.
(, Sat 3 Oct 2009, 1:10, 4 replies)
I am very lucky to have been blessed with extraordinary neighbours throughout my life... I'll save the poltergeist / BBC story and the George Harrison one for another time, so here's my first contribution to a b3ta qotw:

My first great neighbour was Paul Darrow, an actor known to those of us born in the late 60's / early 70's as Blake's 7's Kerr Avon. He lived next door to us and used to run around the village I grew up in (a little place in the leafy Surrey hills) wearing a tracksuit with PAUL DARROW emblazoned across the back, which was the source of much tutting amongst the locals, but I loved him because he was in the best TV show of its era. I became his most ardent fan after he told me, in the village shop, that my Blue Peter version of the Blake's 7 teleporter bracelet was "very well made". He was aces.
(, Sat 3 Oct 2009, 0:05, 2 replies)
Crazy Dog
We just moved in to a new house and the previous tenants warned us that next doors dog was mental. That turned out to be quite true, one of those small ones that think they're alsatians. You should see it bark and snarl from behind their window when you're putting your key in the door. Thankfully they have a bit of sense and keep it indoors although one day I got a text to say that it had gotten out and bit my friend in the leg! Quite unfortunate, although one good thing is we didn't hear one complaint about our housewarming party!
(, Fri 2 Oct 2009, 23:36, Reply)
I am apparently the crazy neighbor!
I hate house cleaning, but do it religiously every Saturday so I don't live in squalor.
Back in March, I was in an unusually good mood and having a blast listening to ABBA while running around with the hoover and the Pledge.
I grabbed a hold of my cat, and danced him around the living room while belting Mamma Mia at the top of my voice.

Once I set the cat down, I got a round of applause from the students across the way. I'd left the windows open!
Even now when they see me, they start humming Dancing Queen or some such ABBA ditty.

The lady that lives next door to me is a bit of a nut. She moved here from Romania in January, and I went over as she was moving in and introduced myself. She just looked at me funny.
A couple months later, around 11pm she comes banging on my door, screaming for help. "Oh fuck diddly dee" thought I, and asked what was wrong.
Where we live has streams and trees and stuff, and there's a bunch of critters and wildlife.........a skunk had gotten into her apartment from the patio and sprayed all over the place. In addition, it wouldn't leave, just sat in a corner hissing and spraying. In between gagging, I couldn't stop laughing and animal control pissed themselves laughing when they came out. Even my apartment stunk of skunk for a week afterwards!
(, Fri 2 Oct 2009, 23:27, Reply)
The Village
I live in a small village that’s relatively close to Portsmouth, D- Day was planned here and it’s your typical small village where everyone knows everyone and there are lots of thatched houses. For a small village we have more than our fair share of weird things happen, some simply plain odd and others rather nasty.

Many years back one of my best friends step fathers tried to kill his mother (thankfully unsuccessfully) and then proceeded to climb on top of his roof and through roofing tiles at the police whilst threatening to jump. The village has a worryingly huge list of stories like this.

Our village police man got arrested for stealing woman’s underwear from a supermarket, a drunk idiot drove straight through a small cottage here killing the elderly chap whilst he slept in his bed, one of the people who ran the village shop was arrested for laundering money ... the list goes on and on.

One day whilst leaving for work I couldn’t help but noticed that an alarming amount of police were entering my neighbour’s house and leaving with various things. The village was awash with rumours as to what had happened, I can’t stand the gossipy side to village life but even I was surprised when it turned out that our neighbour had forced himself upon two young boys (I won’t go into details here) and whilst all this was going on his wife was working as a prostitute.

Obviously this made the papers and although in all fairness he did look like the type of person that would in fact be a paedophile I had no idea about his wife being a prostitute as she was fucking hideous.

It does go to show you though that you never really know who you have for neighbours.

By the way our new neighbours have a habit of fixing jet skis, cars and mopeds in the early hours whilst playing really loud jungle music ... the paedophile and rancid prostitute weren’t great but at least they were quiet!
(, Fri 2 Oct 2009, 22:48, Reply)
Halls last year
The guy living two doors down from me was the third biggest stoner on campus (aside from X and Y - not their real initials - who were and are actual drug dealers). The advantage to this was that because my door didn't fit properly, I could get stoned just by sitting in my room.

The downside was that this would happen whether I wanted it to or not...
(, Fri 2 Oct 2009, 22:34, 2 replies)
Porno King
My street is the kind of place where everyone knows everybody else, when i was growing up all of the kids in the street used to hang around together. We would play games, go swimming, build tents out of bedsheets and furniture and whatever else we could think of to occupy our time. One of the things that we used to do a lot was play a huge games of man hunt. This would involve the kids from the two surrounding streets so there would be a fair few of us playing. The only rules were that you couldn't hide in your house and you had to stick to the three streets, the entrys and the field.

This particular day, there were only 4 of us who hadnt been caught and we were all running down the back entry because no one was around. One of the boys decided it would be good for us to hide in his back yard just for a couple of minutes because we knew the other kids were at either end of the entry looking for us (they hadn't seen us run into it). Now jays house was opposite mine and his next door neighbour was an old man named jimmy. Jimmy was the kinda person who mostly kept himself to himself but would always say hello if he saw you passing. He was also stone deaf.

This meant that jimmys tv was always on very very loud so everyone could hear whatever it was that jimmy happened to be watching at the time. While we were sat in jays back yard we could see over the wall that jimmys back door was open so we could hear his tv very loud and clear.
At first it was meaningless conversation... and then the heavy breathing started... followed by moaning.... then more breathing... then more moaning.... and then... screaming.
thats right
Jimmy was watching porn.

Being 11 years old, we all thought this was hilarious and began to giggle. Until our little minds began to wonder to what jimmy could be doing while watching porn.
We ran out of the backyard as fast as our legs could carry us. A couple of hours later we were all sat around in the street just chatting and messing around...when the noises started again. it was then that little old jimmy became porno king. Sure enough most nights and most mornings without fail we would hear the sounds of jimmys latest purchase.

It was only recently when i saw people moving into porno kings house that i thought to ask what had happened to him. Turns out he'd passed away in his chair.... i'd hate to think what he was up to in that chair but i spose he died doing what he loved.
(, Fri 2 Oct 2009, 22:04, 1 reply)
neighbours from weird city
I live next door on one side to a conspiracy theorist - bangs on and on about the government, the US govenrment, religion, doctos, the NHS, the royals, abso-bloody-lutely everything. He also has a house that stinks of weed so bad, you can smell it at the gate!
The neighbours on the other side are a chavvy young couple with 4 kids and the obligatory scary dog. The kids call each other assholes and the dog is locked in a cage day and night. My boyfriend was called a stupid blackman when he was cutting the hedge. The opposite neighbours have 7 vehicles and take up every available space, but revenge is mine because, when sitting on my sofa, I can see right into their bathroom! Especially at night, its better than the telly sometimes!
(, Fri 2 Oct 2009, 21:43, Reply)
I have a neighbour.
He's a complete twat and considering I get on well with most people, that's saying something.

I can't be arsed to tell you why he's a twat. Just take my word for it but it involves a back yard wall and singing.
(, Fri 2 Oct 2009, 21:26, 1 reply)

I used to live next door to a pair of elderly naturists, only finding out about their hobby when they bade me a cheerful, saggy 'Hello' while I was 25 feet up a ladder repairing the chimney. Luckily, a bush broke my fall, but the memory of a fat, naked man in an ill-fitting wig will live with me forever.

Is not actually a question.

That is all.
(, Fri 2 Oct 2009, 21:12, 4 replies)
Is "mental" catching?
I've had my fair share (and then some) of slightly off the wall neighbours, the woman who complained to my mum that she could smell her cooking with too many onions on Sundays through her wall, to the ones who went round the local shops and take aways the day me and the ex moved in to tell then not to serve us as we were both into satan and witchcraft (we were both early 90's hair metal fans!). But "H" takes the biscuit.

H lived in the flat below us that we have recently moved out of, a decision that she did play no small part in. Amongst her, almost weekly, complaints to our flatmate about me & Mrs P were "I could hear those two fighting last night and they were using furniture to hit each other", "There's too many women walking round the flat wearing high heels, it goes on all day and it's really disturbing me". She also complained that she was sick of me walking round the flat naked during the day, how she could see what I was doing confused me especially as she was directly below us and the flat overlooked a main(ish) road with 3 restaurants and 6 guest houses directly opposite the block, which would make even the most fervent exhibitionist think about covering up, let alone anyone with my physique!

She also admitted to standing on our doorstep one afternoon, with her ear to the door, as she was convinced that she could hear me "making noise" (not any of the other 3 that lived there), which seeing as I was at work about 2 miles away & t'other half wasn't even on the same island at the time was an achievement! It didn't occur to her that as the building next door was being converted to 8 flats at the time, that might have been the source of the banging!

We had just over a year of her random complaints about us, which was a shame and spoilt a flatshare with a top bloke who we're still good friends with in spite of her attempts to convince him that I was a naturist transvestite wife beater!

The main problem with her is that she is one of the most respected shrinks over here and is the local equivalent of Frasier as she's the resident psychologist/councillor on the local radio station and is obviously 10 times more troubled than the people she's trying to help...

Length? Freud would say that it was my mothers fault...
(, Fri 2 Oct 2009, 20:23, Reply)
I doubt that anyone can top these two...

The Shut Up Little Man recordings feature the real-life comical rants, hateful harangues, drunken soliloquies, and audible fistfights of Raymond and Peter – two booze-swilling homicidal roommates in a low-rent district of San Francisco. These infamous recordings were made by their much-menaced next door neighbors, Eddie Lee and Mitchell D.

The recordings are hilarious, frightening and surreal. Click here and listen for yourself.

I've not had neighbors quite this bad, but there have been some who came close...
(, Fri 2 Oct 2009, 20:22, Reply)
Happy New Year
Due to not having a social life in a previous job I would work the 0515 start on New Year's Day which meant getting up at 0400. Fell asleep after 11pm to then be disturbed by the midnight fireworks and the Happy New Year texts from friends. Managed to get back to sleep then at 0230 someone was hammering on the front door. I go downstairs and find a man swaying on the doorstep. After a few moments of looking at eachother he finally says "Wrong house" and goes next door. I give up on sleep and after a while go to work where I reply to all the text messages at 6am. When I got home my neighbour apologised profusely for his guest's conduct and gave me a bottle of wine.
(, Fri 2 Oct 2009, 19:28, Reply)
Both my neighbours are called Frank.
I like to...

Wait, I don't live there anymore...


...I LIKED to call them Alpha frank and Beta Frank. They were both kindly old men.
(, Fri 2 Oct 2009, 18:31, Reply)
Way back when....
I used to live in a small village filled with middle aged parents and their young sprogglings. One fine summer's day, the parish commitee had arranged for a community day at the local playing field. It involved a cricket match, a BBQ, etc. and all in the name of unity and 'Love thy neighbourism'.

I was about 18 at this time and me and 3 of my mates decided to have a bit of a kick around (by that I just mean football) with about 8 kids, all about 6 - 8 years old.

We played nicely, as you do with little un's. That is until they turned nasty. Suddenly 4 people who for some reason were considered adults were being harrassed by minors. To my eternal shame, the four of us brought out our own dirty tactics and after 5 more minutes play it was decided the match should be called off, immeadiately for fear of injury. That's right, we pretty much beat up some children.

I moved out of my Dad's place a couple of years later but when I am back in the village, I steer clear of the parent's houses for fear of scowling looks!

Kids eh?! The hooligans.
(, Fri 2 Oct 2009, 17:37, Reply)
My angry, paranoid neighbour.
A few years ago i used to share a house with my girlfriend, her sister and her sisters boyfriend. It was a nice set up, the house to the left of us was empty and the house to the right had a neighbour who we barely saw and was pretty down to earth.

So this was all good, we could have friends around, we could party at weekends and we could relax without any bother or noise complaints.

That was until Ste moved into the empy house with his family (wife and two kids). Now Ste was almost always drunk on Stella artois, he was very twitchy and paranoid and had was extremely dodgy. Like a kind of skinny Del Boy crossed between a Jack Russel dog.

For the first few weeks he could often be seen opening his back garden gate and bringing (presumably) stolen furniture into the house from the back of a van (full of equally dodgy men). So far so good, no real problems to speak of... Until we dared to have a party on a friday night. We had a few of our closest friends around for a meal and a few beers and it was as a whole a pretty relaxed affair.

The next thing we knew, we heard banging on our back window and Ste had climbed onto the garden wall and was spying through the curtains.
I opened the back door and was instantly greeted by :
'Fuckin party at this time? I've got kids in bed (which was a complete lie as they were both in the back garden eating ice cream) and you're taking the fuckin' piss!'

'Ok sorry, i didn't realise it was so loud, i'll turn it down' i said and proceeded to do so.

'Make sure you do!' He yelled.

Nothing more came of it, until a few weeks later, we had another gathering and with the previous events in mind, we kept the volume to a minimum.

Now, my good (and totally harmless) friend Richard had gone to the back door to have a smoke and a few seconds later Richard asked for me to come to him. I popped my head out the back door to find Angry Ste was again propped on the garden wall with a kitchen knife in hand and was shouting at Richard.
Upon seeing me, Angry ste said 'Eh tell your mate to stop being cocky!'

'huh?' i exclaimed.

'He's being a cocky bastard and keeps smiling at me!'

I told Richard to go inside to diffuse the situation (so we didn't get killed) and tried to calm Angry Ste down. He told me he had anger problems and didn't like people smiling at him. (Doing my best not to laugh) i told him it was okay, and not to worry about us, we're just a bunch of harmless hippies and we won't be any bother to him.

'Yeah but i wanna fucking talk to you, and you keep trying to go inside you house!'

'Okay Ste i'll talk to you if you put the knife down'

Ste chucked the knife into the garden and remained sat on the wall. Now it was at this point i thought 'if this keeps up, the next few years are going to be hell', so i told him in no uncertain terms that the only time we ever get to party is on a weekend, we have respect for him, but i didn't like him threatening my mates. I told him if he ever has problems with any noise or people smiling at him, to come and talk to me and not shout at people.

'You're a bloody good lad you Lizard, you're a bloody good neighbour, not like my last neighbours who got me kicked out, fucking cunts, you're a good lad Lizzy!' and with that he shook my hand, dropped down from the wall into his house and returned seconds later with a can of stella for me.

Now occasionaly if anything happened Angry Ste would shout for me (at all times of the day) 'Lizzzzy!!! Lizzzy!!!' and we would have a good chat and smooth everything out, despite the fact he was a red-faced nutcase. Every chat would be resolved with him handing me a can of stella.

Now in regards to the music volumes, i didn't dare mention the fact that EVERY fucking morning WE would be awoken to the Rolling stones 'Gimme shelter' at exactly the same time 8:00 am on fucking repeat, blaring from the kitchen next door. I didn't want to call him a hypocrite as we'd managed to sort things out. But it was a kind of neutral resolution. He didn't mind people partying here on the odd weekend, as long as we didn't mention his very narrow and loud and repetitive musical taste in the morning times.

He obviously had social issues and was more than likely on the run. Eventually we got used to his strange habits and the musical awakening at 8:00am every morning. He befriended me, telling me 'if you ever need anyone sorting out Lizzy, you tell me!'

Now - he eventually buggered off, doing a moonlit flight with his family, but i still remember the time on Christmas day I was alerted to his loud shouting of 'Lizzzzy, Lizzzzzy!' to which i appeared at the back door to find him in his usual perch on my backwall with two cans of stella in his hand. The rolling stones 'Gimme shelter' blaring from his kitchen as per usual.

'Merry Christmas Lizard, you're a good fucking lad, have a drink with me'

He gave me another can of stella and a jack daniels glass and to be honest it was a nice feeling to have a yuletide beer with this nutter of a neighbour. The thought was obviously there and in all honesty he was all mouth, he looked after his wife and kids (even if he couldn't look after himself much) and treated them like princesses.

I once talked the poor guy out of suicide. One spring morning, he shouted for me 'Lizzy, Lizzy!' and he told me he was sick of life. That he was planning on jumping off Runcorn bridge and he gave me a handful of money to give to his wife and kids and to tell them that he loved them.

I was taken aback. I told him that he was being selfish and that he could sort his life out one step at a time, i refused to take the money and told him to calm down and think about things. Which he did and after contemplation, he again returned with a can of stella for me.

'Cheers Lizzy!'

He's long gone now (presumed drunk and shouty)... But i often think about the strange man. How he was very confrontational, a bit mad but ultimately just troubled. I'm quite proud of the fact that i didn't ignore him and listened to him and gave him the time to talk, and i like to think he respected that, especially by showing no fear to him.
I'm glad i changed the whole situation round, becoming friendly with him instead of being afraid of him. He may have even killed himself if i hadn't have gone outside to talk to the mad bastard.

Whenever i hear the rolling stones, i often raise a wry smile and a beer to him.

Sorry for the unfunny.

* For clarity: -my name isn't Lizzy, but it sounds similar enough...
(, Fri 2 Oct 2009, 17:25, 4 replies)
Old but great
The Neighbour
by Franz Kafka

I am totally responsible for my own business. Two ladies with typewriters and account books in the outer office; my room with desk, cash-box, conference table, club chair and telephone: that is everything I work with. So easy to survey, so easy to carry on. I am very young and business is going well for me. I don't complain, I don't complain.

Since New Year's, the small, empty flat, which I unfortunately hesitated to rent for such a long time, has been rented by a young man. It is as mine, a room with outer office, but besides that has a kitchen. Room and outer office I clearly could have used well— sometimes my ladies felt a bit crowded—, but how would I have used the kitchen? This little worry is to blame for my hesitation to rent the flat myself. Now this young man is sitting there. Harras is his name. What he is actually doing, I don't know. His door reads: "Harras, Bureau." I made inquiries, and been been notified that it is a business similar to mine. You couldn't necessarily warn against renting to such a fellow, OI was told, Since we are dealing with a young, rising man, whose business may have a good future, but you couldn't advise to offer him credit either, since there doesn't seem to be any fortune at the present. The common information you get, if no one knows a thing.

Sometimes I meet Harras in the staircase, he always must be in an extraordinary hurry, he formally scurries past me. I haven't truly met him yet, the keys to his office are always sitting ready in his hand. In the matter of an instant he has opened the door. Like the tail of a rat, he slides in and again I am standing in front of the sign "Harras, Bureau", which I have already read more often than it deserves.

These awfully thin walls, which betray the honest man, but cover the dishonest! My telephone is attached to the wall that separates me from my neighbour Harras. But I only emphasise that as a special ironic fact. Even if it was hung on the opposite wall, you could hear everything in the neighbouring flat. I gave up saying the names of clients on the phone. But through characteristic, but unavoidable expressions, it doesn't need much cunning to guess the names. Sometimes I wriggle, having the receiver close to my ear, full of restlessness, tiptoing around the telephone, but still I can't stanch the outflow of secrets.

Owing to all these worries, my business decisions have become unsure, my voice starts shaking. What is Harras doing while I am on the telephone? If I really wanted to exaggerate— which you often must, to make things clear— I could say: Harras doesn't need a telephone, he uses mine, he shifted his sofa near the wall and listens, but I have to— when it rings— run to the telephone, receive clients' wishes, make difficult decisions, perform great prepared speeches— and through it all I am involuntarily reporting to Harras through the wall.

Maybe he doesn't even wait until the end of the call, but rises after the bit of conversation, which informed him enough about the case, scurries through the city, and before I even drop the receiver he might already be busy working against me.
(, Fri 2 Oct 2009, 17:15, Reply)
My first place...
A terraced ground floor flat in a fairly dodgy area with neighbours on either side and above.

The neighbour on the right was a recluse, never answered his door, you just saw the curtains twitch as you walked past his window, probably had a fridge full of body parts but he never bothered me so fair enough.

Neighbour on the left was completely deaf, nice guy, never had any problems with him but his friends were thick as pigshit. They would come round and start hammering on his front door at 2am, on one memorable occasion I went out to tell them to shut up...

Him: *Bang* *Bang* *Bang*
Me: 'It's no use knocking on the door, he's deaf'
Him: 'We know, thats why we're banging'
Me: 'No... he's totally deaf and probably asleep'
Him: 'Yea but he has a dog'
Me: '......'
Him: 'His dog will hear the banging and wake him up'
Me: 'He's a scruffy mongrel terrier... not lassie'
Him: *Bang* *Bang* Bang*

The neighbour above was the worst though, he was always really smartly dressed.. but not in a good way, I figured he'd done some time maybe or had some sort of OCD thing going on, his greasy hair was always neatly combed, his slightly too short jeans had creases neatly ironed in, winklepickers buffed and shiny... he just looked odd.
Every night he used to play The righteous brothers unchained melody and sing along at the top of his voice BUT he would only play the first 20 seconds then he would start it again and again and again, enough to drive anyone to despair.
I tried asking him to stop and he would very politely apologise and 10 minutes later he's start up the song again. In the end I ducktaped my speakers to the ceiling and everytime he started I would counter with 'Arise' by Sepultura at full volume... he got the message and over time I developed a taste for thrash metal that hadnt been there before.

He was always meek and mild but on one occasion in the middle of the night we were awoken by him screaming on the phone that he had a knife and was going to cut his own throat, he really sounded a bit mental and it was late so for both our sakes I decided to phone the police. They came round within a few minutes, we heard the cops at the door to his place followed by some raised voices, smashing glass and then silence.
The next day I looked out of our window and saw smashed glass all over our garden and a pair of black stiletto's sitting in the middle of the lawn.
I went and knocked on his door to ask if the shoes were his and he answered the door covered in dried blood his arms and hands swathed in bloody bandages... in a little voice he said 'yesthankyouverymuch' took the shoes and closed the door.

We moved out before I could discover if he was in some difficult relationship or if he was a glass punching shouty transvestite but it certainly made every subsequent neightbour ive had seem angelic by comparison.
(, Fri 2 Oct 2009, 17:00, Reply)
One night coming back from the pub I was so wankered
I dropped my phone in the street as I was reaching for my keys. The phone spiralled to the ground and broke aparts, various components flying everywhere. Fuck. I drunkenly reached down and attempted a rescue operation. Picked up the battery, the battery cover, found the phone, the keypad... But I suddenly got the strange inkling I was making too much noise. One of my neighbours violently drew back his curtains, opened his window and yelled: “You drunk fucker! You’re making too much fucking noise!”

Being a reasonable chap and also currently down on my knees, I felt round for the first heavy object, a nice big pebble, and lobbed it at the cunt. Hit him square between the eyes David and Goliath style, he fell back looking stunned and confused.

Its true what they say in the bible: Let he who is without sim cast the first stone....
(, Fri 2 Oct 2009, 16:58, 5 replies)
I am
the neighbour that people write about. except when i lived on cromwell street in gloucester. i always like fred, and then...
(, Fri 2 Oct 2009, 16:53, Reply)
I'll regret telling the internet this...
But I shared a house with 5 other lads.
I have always been prone to sleepwalking when stressed and I was going through a particularly stressful time in my life dealing with losing family members and having my girlfriend cheat on me.

I woke up for university fairly chipper, wandered in and sat down in the canteen for a bacon sandwich when my mate and his girlfriend came over to confront me.

Apparently I had kicked open his bedroom door in the night, grabbed his girlfriend and tried to pull her out of bed whilst screaming at her before storming out of the room and marching around the house.

This would be the first of odd sleepwalking experiences that saw me wake up to find all of my clothes piled in the shower, outside the house and part way down the street and a few other odd things.

Needless to say I was not the best flatmate to have for a few months.
I'm over the phase now, all is good with the world but still, I will be remembered at uni by several as "the guy that kicks open a door, pulls sleeping girlfriend of friend out of bed whilst calling her a whore"... not the most catchy of nicknames but heh.
(, Fri 2 Oct 2009, 16:40, Reply)
flashback man
at the age of 16, my friend debbie got her first flat. it was a modest home, she was(and still is) far from rich, but it was enough for her.
she really loved her new home and was extremely houseproud. all was going well.
then it started.
lying in bed one morning, debbie was woken by a loud banging and crashing from the flat above. before she could even get out of bed, she was horrified to hear her neighbour screaming in a most bloodcurdling way.
puzzled and more than a bit scared, debbie stayed right where she was.
after ten minutes or so, the noises and screaming died down, much to her relief.
two hours later, there was a knock at debbie's door. when she opened it, her neighbour stood there, looking decidedly sheepish. "i'm sorry about the noise," he said, "but i was having a flashback." he then explained to her that, as a teenager, he'd been in a car that had crashed into a river, almost drowning before being rescued by a passing farmer or some other such helpful person.
satisfied with his explanation, debbie told him not to worry, she understood completely.

scroll forward two months, and captain flashback is at it again. this time, however, it was a different neighbour that knocked.
"did he give you that bullshit car crash story?" he asked. debbie said yes.
"i've known him since we were kids," said her neighbour, "he was never in a crash, he's just doing it for attention."
not knowing if this was the truth or just a pissed-off neighbour trying to cause trouble, debbie decided to suspend judgement.
over the next few month, debbie began to realise that her second neighbour had been telling the truth, largely due to her upstairs neighbour's deranged screams for help ranging from "i'm drowning!" to "i'm burning!" and the ever-popular "i'm starving!"
she did her best to ignore him, but it was difficult.

after a particularly heavy night on the piss, i had decided i was unfit to go home, so had stayed the night with debbie. at 7 a.m, viciously hungover and feeling very runny in the stomach, i was rudely awakened by the nutter upstairs screaming "AAAAAAAARRRGGHHH!! HELP ME! I'M FREEZING!"
not feeling in the most sympathetic of moods, i shouted as loud as i could "WELL PUT THE FUCKING HEATING ON AND SHUT UP!!" before going back to sleep.
strangely, he never had another flashback...
(, Fri 2 Oct 2009, 16:33, Reply)
I used to live next door
to some communists.

Every time they tried to have a party it'd split into two parties, both claiming to be the real one.
(, Fri 2 Oct 2009, 16:14, 9 replies)
Thong girl.
As my kitchen is upstairs when I am doing the washing up I am overlooking several back gardens. As it was a new development one young lady was enthusiastically doing gardening and got the nickname thong girl as her underwear was always on display above her trousers. Some friends came to stay for a weekend not long after I moved in. The Sunday was a lovely summer's day but I still did a roast dinner. She had a barbeque with about 1/2 dozen female friends who wore bikinis. Any chances of me making neighbourly friends were dashed when they caught Mike ogling them.
Wavy lines forward a year or so she got her own back when she started shaving her bloke's back every Sunday Morning in the back garden. Washing up could wait till later.
(, Fri 2 Oct 2009, 15:59, Reply)
I Hate This Area.
I've had my fair share of neighbours... and probably yours too now that I think about it.

1st off we have the smack-head woman.
When she first moved in she was actually quite pretty and seemed normal. Then she started on the hard-drugs and the downward spiral begun.
She'd knock on the neighbours doors asking to "borrow some tinfoil because she's making the baby a pie."
The baby was 18 months old, tops.
She'd knock and ask to use neighbours phones at all hours to ring her dealer. It was terrible.
I went on holiday with some family and when I came back 2 weeks later her house looked empty. No curtains no nothing. I spoke to a friend later that day and he said that a Transit van had pulled up outside her house whilst she was on the doorstep having a smoke. 7/8 blokes jumped out the van, pinned her down, gave her a kicking and shaved her head.
Bizarre. But I never saw her again.

Neighbour 2 was a paranoid nutter with no shame whatsoever.
You know those people who don't know when they've overstepped the line and won't shut the fuck up? She was one of those.
Every day she'd go into town shopping and everyday she'd struggle with her lock. Fair enough but she'd ALWAYS insist that I lock the door!
Fair enough, I don't mind helping people now and then but I must have locked that door 90 times in the space of a month. It's your door, learn to use it or get it fixed!
One time she spotted my cousin on the bus and must have recognized him from his visits to mine. She stood up on the crowded bus, pointed at him and shouted "WHAAAAAT!? YOU'RE NOT MY REAL DAD!" and stormed off the bus.
(He was 18 at the time and clearly 10/12 years younger than her.)

I remember her sharing her weirdness with a few of my friends too.
I was chatting outside my house to my mate about some random jibberish. Computer stuff probably. When she rather rudely interupted my sentence.
HER: Hey!
ME: Um, yeah?
HER: Did you cut my hair?!
*Friends' face goes from mild-shock to surpressed laughter*
Me: What!?
Her: Someone cut my hair! If it's not you and it's not me then who it is!?
Me: *bit scared now* I honestly don't know.
She wandered off mumbling to herself and I got a phone call later that night from my mate saying "Hey, if I bring the kids round will you cut their hair? Hahaha" *roar of laughter from the family in the background.*
I never heard the end of that.
I bumped into her in town a few days after the bus event and she said "My dad's following me so I'm moving house. I can't tell you anymore." I think I skipped home that day with a big grin on my face.

Neighbour 3 seemed ok until she developed a fondness for my cat.
She'd sit on the front doorstep, stroking the cat and chatting to it and eventually started feeding it sardines. I didn't mind seeing as the cat was in no danger.
But one day she knocked on my door:
HER: "Do you know where your cat is?"
ME: "Erm, no. Upstairs asleep maybe. Why?"

She'd let the cat into her home and it'd freaked out when she switched the hoover on as most cats do.
Their friendship ended there.

Better stop here, this is long enough as it is.
(Penis Joke Here)
(, Fri 2 Oct 2009, 15:43, Reply)
Birthday present
The two lesbians next door bought me a rather nice Timex for my 30th birthday... I told them they'd misunderstood me when I'd said to them "I wanna watch"
(, Fri 2 Oct 2009, 15:15, 4 replies)
Love thy neighbour
When I was about 14, we got new neighbours. Well, they weren't really neighbours, their garden backed on to our garden. Does that make them neighbours? I'm not sure.

Anyway. These neighbours had two kids: one girl about my age and a sporty boy a couple of years younger.

Due to garden sizes, we never really talked that much. Until one day, about three years after they moved in, the sporty boy sliced a golf ball into our garden. He was a little on the shy side so sent his older sister around to ours to get it. Since I was the only one in the house, I let her into the garden and we spent a while trying to find the golf ball.

During the course of the search, we started chatting and discovered a mutual love of Guns 'n' Roses... yadda yadda ... blah-di-blah ... ten years later we got married.

No appologies for length, she loves it.
(, Fri 2 Oct 2009, 15:13, 5 replies)
My current neighbours
Well, they're in the flat upstairs (we live in a house converted in to flats) seem to have a tendancy to move things around all the time at odd hours. Literally, the girl in the room above me just seems to move something to one side of the room to the other and back again. They're also quite large girls and we can hear them run from one end of the flat to the other when the door bell goes. Hearing them peeing isn't so fun though
(, Fri 2 Oct 2009, 14:55, Reply)

This question is now closed.

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