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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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I posted a brief version of this back at the beginning of the QOTW, but I decided to delete it and post the actual story now that I have some time to write it down.

Up until about twelve years ago we had a pair of Italian people living next door to us. Then they moved back to Italy. They were quickly replaced by a couple and a their son (he was a little tosser, used to throw rocks at me and my little sisters whenever he saw us, until my big brother threatened him with a spade, then he started being nice to us) who were nice enough. They had a huge garden and they used to let us go next door and play with their son and run around in it and the male half of the couple always gave us ice lollies. Stephanie (the girlfriend) was nice enough to us, but not to the extent her boyfriend was. She’d smile at us if she saw us about, she was generally friendly with us and our Dad. I don’t think she ever bothered replying to my Mum saying hello to her though.

One day, the lovely man next door just seemed to disappear.

My Dad sat us down and told us that if we saw Stephanie we had to be EXTRA nice to her and not go and call for her son for a wee bit. Yep, her boyfriend had died. In a car accident. And Stephanie really started to change, she ignored us if she saw us and not long after her boyfriend had died then her son disappeared too, she’d sent him away to boarding school. To this day, I only see him about when she seems to want something doing.

She started playing music loud at all hours of the day, having parties all the time, out in her garden shouting for all hours. When Mum went round to ask her if she could turn the music down, she just got told to fuck off. When Dad did it then she did, for all of about an hour before it was up again.

And there was ALWAYS a suspicious BANGING noise coming from her house.

I still remember the look on Mum’s face when I asked her why she was always banging and making weird noises.

It’s been a good few years since he died now and thankfully those parties seem to have stopped and we hardly ever hear the loud music coming from her house. She seems to have calmed down a lot now that she has a girlfriend. And my Dad seems to spend a lot of time staring out the window when they’re saying goodbye to each other, the dirty bastard.

The banging however has not stopped. I wake up most mornings to “BOMP. BOMP. BOMP. UNGHHH!” and I’ve started to notice that most of the men who go in there seem to park either outside OUR house, or down the road a little bit before disappearing into her house and coming out an hour later.

Mum swears that once she saw her disappear into the back of a van and come back an hour later “arranging” herself as she got out too.

Woman distraught with grief seeking intimacy because she can’t get over the death of her boyfriend? Or local sex worker?
(, Mon 5 Oct 2009, 18:34, Reply)

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