My neighbours.
My neighbours – one side fuckwitted unfunny irritant. The other side – weekend wanking with a walking stick.

Introducing on my left with the red front door…. …. Malcolm. Malcolm who, whenever I’m outside and either mowing the small bit of lawn, washing my car, sweeping up some leaves, painting a window frame… absolutely anything. He’ll come up and say with a grin ‘ooh, you can do mine next’ – admittedly, we’ve probably all said something like that from time to time, but every time he see’s me he has to try and squeeze it in to the conversation. ‘Mr Mullered! What sends you out of the house at 11am on a Saturday morning?’ ..bites tongue and replies.. ‘I’m going the supermarket to do my weekly shop’ Malcolm – as quick as a flash with his shit eating grin ‘Oooh, you can do mine if you like when you are there!’

He irritates fuck out of me. It’s not like he is in the middle of doing something himself ‘outdoors’ no, he’ll haul himself off his sofa, put his shoes on – and his peter fucking storm ‘wind-cheeta’ and drag himself outside to be the unfunny cunt he is. Oh, yeah, whatever it is you are doing, he’ll stand there and watch you. He’s like a badly observed Harry Enfield character – he has one line of conversation, namely ‘you can do mine if you want’ and that’s it.

He is probably about 50 and married, so don’t give it the whole ‘he’s probably lonely’ thing. He’s just a cock. A big cock.

On the other side is an old-boy, probably early 80’s and quite frail. He’s one of the old-school who has clearly seen some action during his national service. He always wears a tie and a blazer. You know the sort – like being presentable. The problem is, Mr Lloyd is none too quick these days, and with me having a lot of time for the elderly, it made sense – when I saw him struggle – to go to the newsagents for him the other Sunday. I was on my way to get a copy of the times and some rizla and Mr Lloyd is struggling to get past his gate.

Naturally, I offer to get him his newspaper and any other sundry items he might require. He – to my amazement accepted – and so that’s how on a Sunday I now have to get up earlier than I’d like, to walk the five minutes to the newsagents to get myself a paper, some tabs and maybe a bit of milk for me, as well as buying Mr Lloyd a copy of the Sunday Sport.

I feel violated that I buy what your average OAP would consider an obscene publication, a spaff-mag for a pensioner. To think of Mr Lloyd there, deflated todger in hand desperately trying to get his vari-focals far enough down his bulbuls nose so he can get a proper view of some fat girls norks has absolutely ruined my weekend.

Thing is, my local paper shop (I’m sure of this) reckon that the ‘old man’ story was just that when I told them. So now it’s costing me a fortune to go out of my way to the newsagents every day for a copy of the Guardian, just to reaffirm my ‘I only read proper papers’ status.

No, I’ve got no idea as to Mr Lloyds length – and frankly, I don’t want to. What I do know is that I never fancy one off the wrist after I’ve been to the paper-shop.
( JeffTheDogFucker Can you dig it?, Thu 1 Oct 2009, 14:27, 4 replies)

Think about this
When you're an OAP and ahve trouble walking to the shops, would you apprecaite it if your younger neighbour went and got you your dirty mags?

I know I would.
( Crap Little Monkey Deathstar, so good they built it twice, Fri 2 Oct 2009, 10:31, closed)

Well said
This elderly gentleman, in all probability, fought for his right to low-quality jazz mags. Who here can say the same, eh?

So young fella, I suggest you man up and fetch this hero his papery smut with pride, safe in the knowledge he defended the right of men everywhere to bang one out over a poorly reproduced picture of a fat chick called Tracie.

But please, for christ sakes, try not to thinking of him shuddering over the vinegar strokes next time you're poking the missus
(Go on , touch it, Fri 2 Oct 2009, 16:14, closed)

Do the right and sensible thing.
Set him up with a wireless connection to your internet and introduce him to internet porn.
(Richy_T hundreds if not thousands of dollars, Fri 2 Oct 2009, 19:22, closed)

What twunt told you...
...that The Grauniad was a 'proper' paper?
(Billy The Fish wants to gargle with Lucy Pinder's bath water, Sat 3 Oct 2009, 20:59, closed)