My Neighbour, the Doctor
My missus and I used to live in Brighton Marina Village. It's a horrible place to live, very cramped, and nearly impossible to park anywhere near, and the neighbours were usually rather pretentious snobs.
The chap who lived downstairs, however, was rather friendly and down to earth. He was young, well groomed, and always said hello and was happy to chat. His name was Omid, he was a doctor, and apparently had a good relationship with his local BMW dealer. It seemed like every month he had a new BMW parked next to his immaculate 850i. His cars had the magnetic 'DOCTOR' labels, and the obligatory green bubble light sitting on the front seat.
He would often regal me with tales of wacky patients and how he had been sacked from his previous work because of racial tensions - and how he would often attend messy car accidents up the A23.
My wife and I went on holiday to Spain, and as she likes her gossip, she bought one of those British glossy girl mags - Heat or OK or some such crap. We were enjoying a quiet afternoon, when she exclaimed "OH. MY. GOD."
I went to see what was up, and she pointed out an article featuring our neighbour Omid.

www.express.co.uk/posts/view/18380 (not the same article obviously)

We couldn't believe it. We called her parents back in Brighton to confirm if they had noticed anything. No, they hadn't seen him in a while.
Our neighbour was a conman. But he was a lovely bloke, really.
(w4I4q1O1 was hard at work on, Fri 2 Oct 2009, 14:14, Reply)