oh and...
... not my neighbours, but tenants of mine in my old job. so someone's neighbours, for the purists on here.

highlights being:

the trio of brothers who shat on the floor and wiped their arses on the curtains

the drug addicts who solved the mess on the floor by hoisting the bed from the ceiling on a rope

the couple who had abusive sex veeeery noisily over my head when i was doing an inventory of the flat below and then asked me in for coffee when they met me in the car park

the old guy who watched porn so loudly and for so long that all his neighbours complained

the mousy quiet little girl who was found to have rubber dresses, spray on pants and several tubes of KY in her flat

the guy who died and decomposed for a week before we found him

the guy who burned himself to death falling asleep drunk on the sofa with a cigarette in his hand

[the two above were in stoke, so what do you expect? don't get me started on the scouse tenants...]

and finally - utterly irrelevant but included for sheer jaw dropping hideousness:

the landlord who, when told his tenants were moving out, clapped his hand to his head and said: "they can't possibly. i've just bought a bloody new headboard for that house."

and who also told me to write to flat 1 of a communal block and tell her to stop blocking the drains with rice. his reasoning for choosing flat 1? she was chinese.

FFS. how could i write to her and say: you are chinese therefore you eat more rice than anyone else? my suggestion that it was more likely to be the curry takeaways from the five single lads in the same block was ignored... ignorant twat!
( rachelswipe with a fork, Wed 31 Aug 2005, 11:29, Reply)

spain
"you see," our new neighbours at our holiday home in spain said wisely over the ice cube tray, "we drink. and we mean we Drink."

this turned out to mean bacardi and coke at 6am, only relaxing to wine and beer at 3pm in the afternoon. by 6pm his and hers gentle and not so gentle snoring could be heard rattling the communal wall. throughout the day, the pair of them sat on the terrace attempting to suck in random passers-by.

this, however, was only the tip of the ice cube. heavily into loud alternative sexual practices, he invited my father in and then tried to watch porn with him. er - they are both 60, not 16. then they invited my parents to a swingers' party. given that she could run her own gurning academy and that he is twice as bad, with a penchant for nutcracking speedos, my parents could not decide who would have been the worse off.

as if this weren't bad enough, they are seriously into nudism. fat, old, wrinkly alcoholics are not a good look. watching them pack for a trip to a nudist colony was hilarious - they only packed booze!

getting sucked onto their balcony is the worst thing. you cannot escape the sexual innuendo and the boring repetitive drunken conversations. not ever. especially when she is home alone - she likes to get workmen or similar in her lair of doom.

ugh. i need a bath. in lysol or something.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Wed 31 Aug 2005, 11:19, Reply)

Mad MCMad's story reminds
me of the 'Shit Tree'.

We had a neighbour in London who was rather *ahem* eccentric. Every time she took a 'number 2', she would put it in a bag, and throw the bag into the oak tree in her front garden. Over time, the tree became adorned with scores of Tesco's bags, each one containing a turd.

Eventually, the council took the the bags (and her) away.

Oh - and MabelMcTaco - this was in Hackney as well.
(8-Ball, Wed 31 Aug 2005, 10:44, Reply)

My teacher's neighbours
The man used to sit in a deckchair in the front garden, crying because his girlfriend hadn't kissed him goodbye the night before. His wife, bizarrely, used to comfort him.

Eventually, she realised that perhaps she shouldn't be quite so understanding about the fact he was openingly cheating on her, so she beat him to death with an iron frying pan.
( Pachey, Wed 31 Aug 2005, 9:24, Reply)

And yet more...
I used to live in a terraced house (with thin walls) next to a woman who terrifyingly abused her large brood of children. "EAT YOUR FUCKING BREAKFAST, YOU LITTLE CUNT!" could be heard on a daily basis in our kitchen. Her husband was rarely around, but when he was, he seemed to go off to a 'special place' while she was busy scarring their children. He built a large bonfire in his backyard, nervously close to ours, and I actually heard him gasp "ouch! That's hot!"

One morning my roommate was having her daily 7am Obnoxiously Loud Violent Fuck with her boyfriend and one of the boys next door could be heard commenting through the walls, "go on, mate, give her one". Heh heh. Oh, those abused children, what will they come up with next?

Child Protective Services was completely fucking utterly useless, as you can well imagine.

PS: This was in Hackney. All my neighbors were scary. But then, I'm sure I was scary to them, too.
(Mabel DelTaco, Wed 31 Aug 2005, 9:01, Reply)

full of em
I actually have the worst neighbor luck. I'm full of stories. Growing up, I lived next door to two brothers, fraternal twins in their fifties who were the only people in the world who could stand each other. One was a retired mailman, and the other had served his debt to society after assaulting a woman in a phone booth, while on cocaine.

They owned fourteen cars between the two of them, which they washed on a rotating schedule. I was constantly being yelled at to keep away from the cars. Towards the end, one of them managed to master a whole murder of crows and fed them hot dogs, gave them names, and talked to them (actual overheard conversation: "Al, you're my only friend"). Naturally, the crows ate all the fruit from my parents' trees and took to cawing on the telephone wire outside their bedroom window at 6 am. One time the brother quite literally ambushed me as I was attempting to wash my car. One began talking about Nazi Germany, while the other offered that in 15 minutes he could make my hubcaps sparkle and shine. "It's a Volvo." I told him. "My hubcaps are plastic with silver spray paint on them". Eventually I ended up going inside and watching TV while they washed my car for me. Ha!

That's more crazy than scary, I guess. The scary part is that these recovering narcotic addict brothers, who have screaming matches and talk to crows, have a 3-ton walk-in gun safe in their basement. Hooray!
(Mabel DelTaco, Wed 31 Aug 2005, 8:52, Reply)

Stinky poo
When I was a kid the old old old man across the road died. I don't think he had any family, so when the authorities came to clear his house out, they discovered that the poor old fella hadn't been able to get upstairs to the loo and had been wrapping his poo in neat newspaper parcels and stacking them up against a wall. I am so glad I work in an office.
(Mad McMad, Wed 31 Aug 2005, 8:45, Reply)

METH
I lived next door to some meth dealers (and manufacturers, and imbibers) for about a year. The condo was actually owned by the dealer's poor old mother, who apparently had no clue that "Ace" (his real nickname) was a methie, or just loved him too much to care. Ace got sent up the river and while he was in the hole his woman shacked up with the 'handyman'. They loved vacuuming and playing Whitesnake at 2am. They had a vicious dog that would bark all night, unless it got loose, and then it would attack somebody's innocent pet. One day Ace's lady had an OD, and because they didn't want the filth to see the meth lab, they dumped her on the sidewalk in front of my house before calling the ambulance! Class! True friends, y'all.

The saddest part of all this was that Ace's lady had a 5 year old daughter. Who lived in the meth lab. She came over to our house on her daughter's birthday to ask if she could use our phone to call the police because the handyman was getting 'out of control' at the party. How a meth addict defines 'out of control' is beyond me, but I sure won't stand in their way if they consider it a matter for the police.

It was a small town and by the end of the year I not only had the local police number programmed into my mobile, I was on a first name basis with the officers (all 6 of them) and knew who worked which shifts.
(Mabel DelTaco, Wed 31 Aug 2005, 8:45, Reply)

my neighbours
are all middle class tristans and sebastians, who do nothing more reckless than talking too fucking loudly & leaving fag butts in the communal garden..

good thing i'm an easy going alcoholic pot smoker. i'd have to kill the loudmouth greasy chumpfuckers otherwise.
( Godzuki needs more sleep., Wed 31 Aug 2005, 8:10, Reply)

I used to live in the flat above a mentalist
You know, the usual - alcoholic, screaming matches every other Tuesday, loud crap music etc.

I once met this charming lady to have a quiet word about the music (which was keeping me awake). She was already a bit drunk (at 6pm) and within the first three minutes of our meeting, informed me that:
- her son hated her and refused to see her
- her former husband used to sleep with prostitutes
- she was obsessive-compulsive and went mental if someone moved anything in her flat.

At some point in the conversation - after I'd managed to get a word in about keeping the music down, seeing as I worked in the day etc - she leaned towards me conspiratorially and said:

"I hope you don't mind me saying this but... you're a bit weird."
( Pachey, Wed 31 Aug 2005, 7:28, Reply)

darling people, really
my neighbor is a 45 yr. old living with his parents. he's in a band and performs for bar mitzvahs. he's the drummer, but practices his (horrible) singing very late at night with the windows open (music of choice - bob marley and elvis presley). he has a greying jew-fro and likes to go outside wearing nothing but biker shorts, which are sadly forced to stretch over his widening waistline.

his mother is a delightful woman - she enjoys rollerdisco classes (rollerskating plus 70s music) and wearing ridiculously flamboyant feathery red outfits to funerals, and making her presence known when she arrives home by honking the horn several times, no matter what time of day or night. the whole family likes to yell at each other from windows.

we call them 'the loud family'.
(LaChicKitten, Wed 31 Aug 2005, 4:22, Reply)

idiot neighbours
I used to live next door to these wankers that fancied themselves as mechanics. So as a result they had crappy car parts all over their yard. I once saw one of them sit in his backyard with an intact windscreen,and,using a hammer, smash it into the smallest bits he could. ie tiny little squares. It took him about 2 hours. Then he spent the next 2 hours picking it up piece by piece and putting it in the bin.
(hixy, Tue 30 Aug 2005, 23:28, Reply)

Scratchy--
I'd read that each teardrop tattoo stands for a person you've killed. You said this guy had several... Scary!
(Kitsune-chan I'm not a bunny I'm a grownup girl, Tue 30 Aug 2005, 22:27, Reply)

my neighbours
this topic was enough to make me register for the forum, because I couldn't possibly keep the makeup of my colourful neighbourhood to myself.

First of all, a few houses down, there is the eccentric mathematician with an epsilon "tattooed" on her tooth in gold. Along with the other mildly interesting neighbours include, across the street an old, often drunk, redneck with two canes who likes to shout "here comes trouble!" when I leave my house. A few houses down from me in the opposite direction from the mathematician is a 40-something "piano teacher" who keeps late hours and does all her (front) yard work in red hot pants and a bikini top....and for some reason she has a continually lit red light in her front porch. Now, across the street from her is a man, who, when his mother (who he was still living with at 40) died, he began wearing her clothes, and made a "transition." There now seem to be a large number of gender-inspecific people inhabiting this house with him, a few cats, and a dog. Lastly, and it really is a shame because he moved, but not long ago, "pigeon-man" lived about 6 houses down from me. He had approximately 25 pigeons which he kept in a garage-sized cage. They were trained to circle around his roof for hours until he whistled them back to their cage. At least they didn't shit all over the place. At any rate, even with pigeon-man gone, there are enough sites to behold from my front window.
(mtleh, Tue 30 Aug 2005, 22:03, Reply)

Moan, me, nah
All you pissheads will be amazed to hear that my neighbours from hell are a pub. The Terrys who run this shed must be related to, shagging or bribing someone senior because they're obviously above the law. They work to their own interpretation of licensing hours; it doesn't include anything so ordinary as closing time. I work to my job, which means I have to get up at quarter to six each morning. I can't move, the house goes with said job.

This weekend we've had some mindless twunt of a dj on Saturday shaking our house - we're thirty feet away - with an endless stream of forgettable "tunes" over which he laid the same bobbitybobbity bass line for three hours. Last night - Sunday - we were "entertained", despite the thirty feet and our double glazing, blinds and curtains, to karaoke night. Shout night is more like it. This went on until nearly one o'clock, punctuated only by shouts and screams as punters came and went, slamming doors, reving engines and taxi horns. In the past we've had keg-rolling competitions at two in the morning and their chav customers sitting outside all of a sunny Sunday afternoon pissed up with car stereos blaring.

We've given up on the fuzz, who don't even turn up to crimes any more; I presume it's bad for the paperwork flow. Environmental health pretend to be trying to help but don't. Does anyone have a mate in the army air corps? I've got the very practice target for one of their nice shiny new Apache gunships.
(The Jannie, Tue 30 Aug 2005, 21:19, Reply)

I Miss Living Opposite a Crackhouse
The police spent a week watching the crackhouse from our living room window and putting up with all the inevitable doughnut jokes from us. When they left, they put the key back in the door along with a £20 note for our kind hospitality. My housemate spent it on pot. Actually the crack dealers were fairly good neighbours- not too noisy and fairly polite. I miss them now as we only have a 6ft6 ladyman who we see about once a week. We thought the beauty salon on the corner was a front for a brothel, but sadly, it's just a beauty salon. Our only solace is the man dressed like a builder who practices his trumpet under the bridge sometimes. Ah Cambridge.
(BadKittyDirtyKitty, Tue 30 Aug 2005, 20:24, Reply)

Not scary...
Both my neighbors, left AND right are called Frank. Both of them. I call them Alpha frank and Beta Frank.
That's really not scary though.
( Green Spanner and his magical lack of activity, Tue 30 Aug 2005, 20:20, Reply)

Only thing scary about my current neighbours.....
....is that one of them looks like Dr Shipman, and the other is a Chinese takeaway. Which is making me a right fat cunt.

Me old neighbours however, well that was something else. We had a neighbour called Karl who thought he could get away with anything, and openly threaten us if we questioned him. He was about 6 footish too, so we didn't bother to question him and leave him to himself. Until....

This 20 yr old bird used to live opposite us in a 1st floor flat. Lovely girl, except she was about 6 foot 5 (good at netball, she held the fecking net). One day, she walked down to her flat to borrow some sugar off her friendly downstairs neighbour. While she was literally gone for two mins, Karl spotted a nice new mountain bike in there. So he legs it over, grabs the bike, and runs back to his house. The netball post goes back upstairs to her flat, where lo and behold, there's an empty space where her bike was. She calmly places her sugar on the table, and walks straight over to Karl's house and knocks on the door. Karl answers.
"What you want?" he growls.
"My bike please."
"I aint got your bike bitch" and goes to close the door. She stops him doing this, and says "Funny that, as it looks identical to the one in the hall behind you." Sure enough, that's where it sat. At this point, she grips Karl and drags him by his neck outside all of our houses, while calling us all out. We go outside, and witness her beat the living shit out of him, then grab her bike and go home.

We never saw Karl again after that :)
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Tue 30 Aug 2005, 19:21, Reply)

Hey big spender...
My boyfriend, back in Uni, lived next to a total muffin of a farm-boy. He wore the same clothes every single day. He washed once a week (if you were lucky) and all he ever ate were disgusting sarnies - chocolate spread, ham, mayo, jam, peanut butter - it all went on.

Most disturbingly, though, was his spending habits. His parents, obviously terrified he might move back to Wales (yes, he was Welsh), paid off his debit card monthly for him. Being the nosy bugger we all are, my boyfriend sneaked a look at farm-boy's debit card bill when he left it in the communal kitchen.

Every single Friday, at 2am, farm-boy removed £40. Why? What did he need £40 for at 2am? The clubs were shutting, and no-one spends that much at the 24 hour garage...

So my boyfriend and another chap followed him. Farm-boy went to the cashpoint, got his £40, and, looking around, walked over the other side of the Uni.

To the red light district.

Farm-boy managed to lose my boyf and his mate, and continued to visit the ladies of the night long after that.

Dirty fucker.
(Northern Lovely, Tue 30 Aug 2005, 19:20, Reply)

Housewarming Party Leads to Realization of Neighbours’ Quirks
We live in a ground floor apartment. On one side, unattached, we have a lovely lady of about 60, who is civilized and polite. Above us, there’s a couple with two kids, and a couple of doors down, there’s a single Army guy.

Army Guy stands 5’ 2” and has that “little man” complex, which manifests itself in his driving a large, black Land Rover Discovery with blacked-out windows and massive alloys.

The nice couple upstairs comprises a woman who is very bubbly and a guy who’s a bit of a hippie.

My wife and I had a housewarming last week, and discovered that Hippie and Army Guy both have opposite and equally bad reactions to alcohol.

Army Guy made several inappropriate comments to my wife (e.g. “Will you take off all your clothes for twenty dollars?”), which she countered with withering put-downs. She used to work with brain-injured people, so had to use humour to defuse situations all the time. Clearly feeling that my wife should have been fazed by this, he then went on to make an extremely inappropriate comment to my stepson’s aunt when she and her husband were leaving (“Thanks for the panties!”), and when her mother took issue with his foul mouth, he protested, “I’m sorry! I didn’t realize she was your daughter!” He continued to get more drunk and belligerent as the night progressed.

Hippie Guy, also worse-for-wear, decided to defend Army Guy, which resulted in his being chucked out by his partner. He came bursting into our apartment, crying his eyes out and saying, “I’m sorry, man! I’m sorry, man!” to me, my wife, and all the assembled company. He was a complete wreck. My father-in-law offered to go and talk to his girlfriend, but came back half an hour later no closer to achieving a peaceful resolution. I went upstairs and talked to her for an hour, and thankfully, she relented and let him back in. He would have cried on our sofa all night long if she hadn’t.

The couple upstairs are OK, but Army Guy’s only pastime seems to be drinking very heavily, so we generally avoid him now.
(Nardis, Tue 30 Aug 2005, 19:15, Reply)

My friend's family installed a backyard pool, and that's when it all started.
They were perfectly within the town by-laws, and didn't have parties or anything. However, the elderly woman next door decided she hated them for installing this pool. She started by putting up all kinds of plastic sheets and packaging materials on her fence, held on with clothespins. Then she took to pissing along the fence whenever she had to go, presumably to make it stink so they wouldn't want to go out there. She progressed to smashing glass bottles and jars on her back patio stones, near the fence. She would swear at my friend's 9-year-old sister and her friends when they were swimming, so the family called the police and reported her for harassment.

The police came, the woman's son (who lived in the next house down) defended her, and the cops just gave her a warning.

The next day, the family discovered their two cars in the driveway had been spray-painted bright orange in any parts that couldn't be seen easily from the road. Police called again, but of course there was no definitive proof that the old bat had done it.

Soon after, a large knife hole was found in the sid of the pool, about halfway down, on that neighbour's side. She had cut right through the metal siding and the liner, and the water had drained out all over the yard. Police called again, still no proof it was her so she was let go.

Then the woman and her son filed a lawsuit against the family, two million dollars for "emotional distress". The family countersued for four million dollars (they figured, one million per family member) citing the same reason.

Before the lawsuit was actually wrapped up in court, the woman ended up threatening the 9-year-old with a knife while she was playing in the yard. Police were called, woman was thrown in jail, problem solved! The police were taking it particularly seriously as only a couple of months earlier a toddler was murdered by her neighbour in the same city, and the fear was still fresh. Lawsuit was thrown out, woman never returned. And they all lived happily ever after.
(ghettobooty, Tue 30 Aug 2005, 18:36, Reply)

Wanker, wanker, wanker, wanker
I used to live in a shared house in Wales with my best friend and some other random guy; not strictly a neighbour I know, so if you’d rather be pedantic and move on to the next tale then good luck to you.

Still here? Then I shall continue.

This guy was your archetypal shared house nightmare, would wash up everything except the one fork that you’d used, leave the fridge full of about six milk cartons with a spoonful left in each one but complain if you threw them away, and so on. You know the type.

He would complain bitterly about the slightest noise, if I had my stereo on at whisper volume even on a friggin’ weekend afternoon he’d be knocking at my door demanding I turn it down. I tolerated this for as long as I could, until an abundance of alcohol brought my breaking point waaaayyy down…

One Saturday evening a few mates & I went out for some bevvies, came back and put on some music and got stuck into a few tinnies – believing old dickface was away for a few days – and got rather rowdy, truth be told. However he was in after all, and started banging on the wall to get us to turn it down.

Well, I thought, actually fuck you pal, it’s the first time I’ve been genuinely noisy in the whole time I’ve been here, so how d’you like this? And duly turned up the music to full whack – Born Slippy by Underworld – and the four of us in the room started hammering back on his wall with all our strength, whilst bellowing “wanker wanker” in time with the “lager lager” bit.

He was livid and started following me and my mate round the house generally whingeing, snivelling and wagging his finger. We ignored him as best we could but he kept on, then unfortunately he set himself up rather badly. He whined “I don’t expect to be called a wanker in my own home”. So I said “oh really? Where do you normally expect to get called a wanker then?”

He tried his best to blow his top, but alas we were far too busy holding our sides, hooting, jeering and making “ba-dumm-tss” drumming gestures to give a shit.

He moved out.

Oh and Chris - if you're reading this - you are a wanker.
(Ali Bongo 9000 Ali Bongo 9000, Tue 30 Aug 2005, 17:50, Reply)

I was the scary neighbour, but not really.
A few years back I was renting a flat in a Northern City, My job gets me moving on a regular basis and I knew in advance that I'd only be there for a year.

The woman living in the flat above must have been a "care in the community" type. During the course of the year I was visited by council health inspectors 3 times and the police 5 times. All as results of complaints this retard had made up about me.

According to her I had:

Deliberately run her dog over: I don't even drive.

Had rubbish bags stacked to the ceiling in every room: checked three times by the health inspectors. You'd think that the second time they came round would have convinced them that she was full of shit.

Played music at top volume late at night constantly: I work shifts. On the last occasion that the police came round It was 8 in the morning and I was just getting back to my flat after a night shift. As I said to the copper "If she could hear my radio playing from my office on the other side of the city she must have fucking awesome hearing, and seeing as how you've SEEN me coming and also that there was NO noise from the flat when you knocked, what are the chances?".

She then took to wandering outside at night in a dressing gown staring through my kitchen window.

Mad bitch.

No apologies.
( stuj (^(^;;^)^) GO TEAM SPIDERS!(^(^;;^)^), Tue 30 Aug 2005, 16:45, Reply)

Nekkid Neighbour *shudder*
Came home from work one summer's evening (2 years ago I think) and it was rather warm (this is the only defence I can come up with for what happened). I exit the lift and turn towards my flat whereupon I am confronted by the wife of the couple that live directly opposite me, stark naked and standing in the corridor. Could have been a more interesting experience if it wasn't for the fact that she was around 50. Like slate layers nail bags they were. Did she run screaming into her flat? No, she just casually walked down the corridor as though I wasn't there.
(Freakish, Tue 30 Aug 2005, 16:27, Reply)

Stoned Cadets
I went to military college (the user name is a giveaway) here in the States. It was a VERY strict environment, as you might expect, and yet, there was one neighbor who, every morning, would get stoned off his arse...and then head off to class.

One day, as I was a Freshman, I had some reason to go in there, before classes to hand him some paperwork or some such. As a Freshman, going into an upperclassman's room, you had to stand at rigid attention and face the wall as you walked into the room (possibly some old buggery tradition, I dunno) and it happened to be right where the persons grade card was: The guy was a Civil Engineering Major (the toughest major on campus) and he hadnt gotten a SINGLE grade lower than an A that entire quarter. (Turns out, after a little investigation that he was a 4.0 student.)

He was seated at his desk, in his uniform, with the biggest doobie I had ever seen (think "Cheech and Chong" big.)

It was then that I started re-thinking the whole "pot smoker = stupid" theory I had.

PS(As these QOTWs have such a high reputation for truth telling, Todd C Spenla doesn't....)
( Citadel Because the world needs less morons, Tue 30 Aug 2005, 16:26, Reply)

Neighbours from Hull..
I used to live in an old farmhouse converted into 6 flats in which lived:
An apparently straight guy who, when his girlfriend went home would pick up young men, lure them in for cold baked beans out of the can and make rumpty to the sound of Lady in Red.
One-balled Jim who got dumped every month by his shrew of a GF and always played Can't live if living is without you, over and over and over.. at least he did until we all clubbed together and bought him 4 boxes of paracetamol and a bottle of Vodka.
Me, at the time single rocky-chick with 200 house plants (all dead now).
A pair of Jehova's Witnesses above me who posted God bothering leaflets through my door weekly - I didn't help by paying All along the Watchtower at full blast.
And finally - a care in the community patient who liked to stab people in the head with a vegetable peeler, oh how we used to laugh as we washed the blood off the walls.
Amazing but living with a toddler and a husband into Heavy Metal seems really peaceful compared to the old days.
( Ethel Le Crisp, Tue 30 Aug 2005, 16:22, Reply)

My neighbours a vampire...
Or at least that's what we decided when we were much younger. the reasoning behind this was that we very rarely saw him out during the day but he felt the need to cut his grass in the dark with a petrol lawn mower, rather annoying if you are trying to sleep!
A few years ago his first wife disappeared. the official story is that she ran off with another woman but I'm sure she's buried in the back garden with the dog!
(Delilah Papillon, Tue 30 Aug 2005, 15:50, Reply)

hello children.
many moons ago i lived on a certain road in a certain town. it was during the ages of 8 to about 12. the people who lived in the surrounding houses were a right medly of characters, some of them quite strange, though i didnt question their antics at the time, being young and nieve and all. some expamples:

1. they guy next door to us used to let the local kids in to his house (including me) and we would bounce around on his furniture, eating bread that we stole from the kitchen ,whilst he sat on the computer. After we were spent eating what little food he had and semi-terrorising the place, we would leave. The strange thing is I dont think i ever heard him speak. Bearing in mind we were about 10 at the time, i reflect back on this and am slighly disturbed.
2. At one point there lived a man a few houses down from me who we had dubed 'Mr Paranoid'. And oh what a psycho he was. I think the trouble started after a game of 'knock and run'. Now its all very well getting annoyed with the local kiddies playing this game on ur front door, but threatening to cut them up with a chainsaw in a particularly menacing manner everytime you manage to catch them passing your house, as a deterant to doing it again, isnt too acceptable.
3.a family down the road- mother, father, about 16 children and a few domesticated mammels thrown in for good measure. all of them GINGER. nothing wrong with ginger hair, but these people were certified inbreads. Several of the kids had funny eyes. They used to have brawls in the street outside their house.
first post. hope u wernt too bored.
whats this rubbish about length/girth/width?!!!!!
(George_Dawes, Tue 30 Aug 2005, 15:38, Reply)

Scary Housemate(s)
When I was 20 in my first year of flatting, one of my flatmates decided that they wanted to go home for the summer break - and thus would find a suitable person to sub-let their room whilst they were gone.

Fine, thought I - said flatmate was a bit of a ginger psycho (Oh My GAWWWD! Who the f*** has put the CAN-OPENER in the sink AGAIN?!?! I can't BELIEVE it, F***ing usedless.... etc, etc) - so I was somewhat pleased at this turn of events.

Until the day after she leaves when her boyfriend informs me that the replacement flattie will be a 40 year old bloke. Ok, ok... not so bad - wait there's more.

Who's been in jail for over half of his life...

rrrright.... so he's now moved out of his 'reforming' accomodation and is 'safe' enough to live with the general public. This would almost be not so bad if the one other existing housemate of mine wasnt' known by the name of PeeWee (for obvious reasons that he was not exactly the most macho woman-protector that one would hope for).

Hmmm, in hindsight now though, he wasn't actually as bad as the original gobby ginger housemate - he was a quiet type (watch out for those, they're always listening) and was extremely immaculately tidy (and not just by student standards). He did have some weird teardrop tattoos on his face though which I still don't know the meaning of, nor sure if I want to know.

One day he ran away with PeeWee's sleeping bag. Just ran off and never came back. Bit odd. And didn't attend his court appearance...

Not such an interesting story as I'd hoped but I'm a longsuffering lurker and finally felt I might have something to contribute.... Apologies for length, etc
(scratchy, Tue 30 Aug 2005, 14:47, Reply)

once upon a time
i lived in a cardboard box apartment supplied by one of the housing associations. Here is a list of my neighbours!

3.Non existent very old man. Used to get alot of teenage lads going round...
4.My friend danny. I think he was the alrightest person in the building apart from encouraging my bf to do the stuff he wasnt supposed to be doing and playing ska very very loud (i like ska though)
5. i lived here with my horrible nasry (Ex) boyfriend. we made alot of shouty racket.
6.A nice guy who was never in and used to randomly come round with psychadelics..
7. [bearing in mind these flats should house 2 people max] consisted of about ten iraquis. they operated on a 24 hour basis, having a steady stream of very noisy visitors who didnt know the meaning of a door bell or a drop call..they left the rubbish everywhere and were damn creepy. they liked to play eminem and arabic music especially at 3am in the morning which i could hear perfectly in my nice interrupted sleep before having work at 9am... While i was away on holiday they gang raped a girl. i left anyway the week after that

Did i mention in the block next to us we had a prostitute who used to sell her wares in the alleyway next to my flat. It was just a rumour, we saw...

and also one time there was loads of cops coz they found a dead body in the block of flats on the other side?

And the kids who used to break in and set fires in the hallways?

Ah the joys of living in smacksville (spring bank), hull...
(Salbo_baggins, Tue 30 Aug 2005, 14:44, Reply)