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.
(Mr_Smythe, Fri 2 Oct 2009, 17:00, Reply)