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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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He tried to beat up several cars...
Back in my murky student past, I had a flat in a big old creaky house. The house was older than the rest of the street, and stuck out oddly into the road, with no pavement around it. The row of semis leading up to it were set well back from the road, with long drives and a wide pavement. The gentleman next door lived in a state of constant fury over this. You see, it was a very narrow little road, and no-one could stop a car outside our house - it would block the whole road.

This shouldn't have been a problem - no-one in any of the three flats owned a car, and Mr. Fury didn't either. However, occasionally, someone would get a taxi home after a happy evening, or maybe with some heavy shopping in the daytime, and the taxi would pull up in front of his drive. These stops were rare (spend good booze money on transport?!) and very short - how long does it take to pay the nice driver, two minutes?

Each and every time this happened, Mr. Fury would run out of his house, glowing an honest-to-god purple with rage. If the taxi didn't pull away quickly, he would attack it with fists and feet. The sight of the weedy late middle aged man trying to kill their car often mesmerised drivers who could have ripped his head off and used it to decorate their bonnet if they had wanted to.

In the end, I'd arrange to get dropped off at the top of the street, even with heavy shopping, because of the sheer embarrassment factor.

The really tragic part of this took a while to become clear. Mr. Fury (who had a lovely, polite, kind wife by the way) was always yelling that we must not block his drive - even for two minutes - because his son might come to visit in his car. In the eighteen months I lived there, often at home in the day as a studenty layabout type, I never once saw the son visit.

Poor old Mr. Fury : (
(, Tue 6 Oct 2009, 20:56, 4 replies)
sad :(
(, Tue 6 Oct 2009, 21:44, closed)
it was really sad...
...but it could have been sadder. What with the freaky purple colour he used to turn, and all the popping, throbbing veins that went with it, I used to really worry that he would drop down dead in the street. So, no visitors, but no sad death in the gutter either : )
(, Tue 6 Oct 2009, 22:00, closed)
No flagellation with branches of a tree then?

No? Just me then.
(, Tue 6 Oct 2009, 23:31, closed)
We had a neighbour like that
Before I finally bought my own place, I shared a house with four other blokes, two of whom had girlfriends who practically lived with us. This meant a lot of cars parked in front, however if any part of any one of them crossed the invisible boundary between our house and the next, sad git next door would be banging on the front door demanding it be moved in case the ambulance needed to come for his elderly mother. In the eighteen months I lived there I only ever saw one ambulance, and that was for one of us. Come to think of it, we never did see his elderly mother, either.

Most of us just ignored him, although the Australian living with us did do a massive shit on his doorstep one night just before flying home.
(, Wed 7 Oct 2009, 8:49, closed)

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