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This is a question Scary Neighbours

My immediate neighbours are lovely. But the next house down from that? Crimminy biscuits - he's a 70 year old taxi driver who loves to tell me at length about the people he's put in hospital and how Soho is "run by Maltese ponces." How scary are your neighbours?

(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 13:20)
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Ah, the South Bronx
I used to volunteer at a kids' centre in the South Bronx. One day, I persuaded my friend to visit the centre with me. A lot of people are a bit afraid of the South Bronx (especially white folks cos you stick out like a sore thumb), so I was reassuring her that the stories of gangs, guns, violence etc were a bit overblown.

When we got to the centre, there was a police car and an ambulance outside the house next door. I asked someone what it was about and she said she didn't know, adding breezily 'Well one of the guys who lives there is crazy and the other one's a drug addict, so it's probably something to do with that'. Then the paramedics carried out a dead guy.

My friend went home.
(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 17:10, Reply)
There's a couple of witches who live me near me have a party every full moon and halloween. Sometimes late at night you can hear strange bangs coming from their house. I have to admit, I try not to walk past it after dark.
(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 17:04, Reply)
Oh, another one
I used to live underneath a guy who without fail every night would masturbate at about the same time- I could literally set my watch my him. Then there was the time I lived next to the insane party freaks, i.e. the lambrini girls of our university. Sleeping was not possible with them around. And then one of them tried to pull me- knowing her reputation (her nickname was "Anal Annie" and her bedpost had been wittled away to nothing) I ran a bleeding mile. And then there was the time I was revising for an exam... and then I heard rustling outside my door. This girl I knew had only gone and pulled a huge branch off a willow tree, and set it up outside my room. What followed was one of the most surreal nights of my life when myself, my neighbour from across the way and these two rather drunk girls wheeled out my TV, blew up my air mattress, and then sat watching Big Brother whilst drinking moleste amounts of alcohol. Good times.

Legless by the way, you're a bloody legend. I hope my life is at least half as interesting as yours.
(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 17:04, Reply)
a family lives downstairs from me; after seven years, I'm still not 100% sure how many of them are. The dad and mum are from Pakistan, while their son (and possibly a daughter) was born here.

The son was always a miserable fucker. When I first moved in, he would stand outside the flats smoking fags and listening to his walkman, and would generally ignore any attempts at communication. He moved to Dublin in about 2000, but came back within a year, having lost his banking job.

Since then he's gone noisily and spectacularly insane. The standout moments came, I think, last summer. His mum and dad went to Pakistan for a while and left him to his own devices. This wasn't such a great idea. He used to start his day with a blast of the first fifteen seconds of "This Charming Man" at insane volumes. Then he'd follow it with... ANOTHER blast of the first fifteen seconds of "This Charming Man". And again and again and again and again.

If I banged on my floor he'd usually stop, for a while. But there was never more than an hour without that bloody jangly guitar arse ripping through the floor... I eventually started giving as good as I got - better, in fact, I think, as I tended to answer his Smiths with terrifying and unpleasant industrial noise like Lustmord and Der Blutharsch.

I would also hear him screaming at a - clearly imaginary - "black bastard" and slamming doors, kicking chairs around etc etc. This all peaked when he lobbed a pile of crockery through his closed kitchen window. When the rest of the block heard it we all thought someone was breaking in, but a quick look downstairs sort-of reassured us. There were bits of broken plate everywhere, mainly behind the protective bars his dad had recently had fitted... This would have been mid-summer, but he left it until November to get it fixed.

There's still banging and crashing and "black bastarding" going on, and lately whenever he spots me, he scuttles off to the other side of the road, muttering barely-comprehensible racist imprecations under his breath. I'm sort of wondering whether he's turning properly dangerous...

edit - oh and during the Liverpool/AC Milan championship match earlier this year, when Milan were up two goals, he took to the streets in his heavy winter parka and walked up and down the middle of the road screaming "AC MILAN! COME ON YOU AC MILAAAAAAN!"

(And Soho IS largely run by Maltese ponces.)
(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 16:46, Reply)
Posh Apartment Freaks
I live in a pretty posh apartment complex in Annapolis, Maryland. Its a nice, quiet place with only the ocasional nutter.

But one of the new neighbors takes the cake: He must be pushing 50 and every single night, he is out on his balcony, four floors up and he attempts to hold conversations with the young female neighbors while they walk their dogs. He stands out there on that balcony, only leaving briefly ocassionally to refresh his beer. Honestly, that guy must knock off a twelve-pack a night and at least 40 cigarettes.

It was all harmless fun until three nights ago: He was chatting *(hollering down to) a young recent veterinary graduate that I rather fancy. After she was gone, I walked out with my leviathan canine and hollered up to him "Why dont you ask one of these girls out so you can spend time not having to shout at them and get to know how they look, I mean, aside from the tops of their heads" - He hasnt emerged since.

That'll teach him to speak to "MY" woman. :)

Sic Semper Tyrannis.
(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 16:42, Reply)
Our next door neighbours on either side are generally ok. one of them used to be noisy but stopped. However, there's a guy a few doors down who, if anyone parks outside his house (we're a row of terraced houses with no driveways) instructs his dog to go and shit right outside their door.

(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 16:41, Reply)
Student Neighbours

A long, long time ago in a galaxy, far, far away.

I was living in Manchester and having an absolute whale of a time. It was during my first few weeks down there comforting my mate Denty who's just been dumped by his GF.

We were in one of our favourite pulling palaces, The Swinging Sporran, when I noticed a striking redhead in the corner. (No body, no hair, just this red head...) So I asked Denty if he knew her.

"Oh. It's Claire. Professional virgin. She lives in the same halls as me."

Now I never could resist a challenge so I bet Denty a pint that I could lay her in less than a week and the hunt was on.

I spent all night chatting her up but didn't try anything on - I just arranged to meet her the following night. That night, we went out with Denty's crowd and we were getting on like a house on fire. I was oozing bad-boy charm and was all over her like a rash. To cut a long (and boring) story short, me and Claire eventually slipped away into the night and back to hers.

She lived in students halls. Whitworth Park to be exact. These were enormous student flats that looked like giant Toblerones - the roof came down almost to the ground. And Claire lived in one of the top flats. We went back to hers, a bit of smooching, a few promises that "yeah, yeah, of course I'll respect you in the morning" and then the deed was done.

Lying back, I lit of a fag for the two of us and there was a tap on the window. Three fucking stories up! I opened the curtains and sitting on the sloping roof was Denty holding a six-pack.

"There you go mate" he said handing me a can through the window. "You won that bet fair and square."

Then he fell off the roof. And I had a lot of fast talking to do.

Not many women have lost their cherry with a neighbour sitting on their roof watching.


(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 16:39, Reply)
We've lived here for 16 years or so. We used to have lovely nice normal neighbours. Then THEY moved in.

Perfectly fine apart from the husband, a grey haired creepy looking bloke of 40ish who enjoys nothing more than staring out into the streets when kids are playing.

He does this constantly, stands in the street and watches them.

I've been past his house at 3am, pissed, confused, but wondering why he's sat in his pants staring out the front window.

He was stood there half naked when me and my girlfriend walked past. She shouted 'PAEDO'.

He stared.

The sooner I move out the better.
(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 16:31, Reply)
sex crazed old people
I live in Edinburgh. I used to live in a dogey part of the city by the sea. My neighbours were the most senile, nosey geriatrics that I have ever met. They had a bloody big dog that would rip your throat out soon as look at you (in fact it attacked the old woman taking a large chunk of her leg for his dinner) She called me "sonny" even though i'm a girl and being abusive. They were in their eighties.

They used to have the loudest, filth ridden sex my ears have ever heard. But thats not all, oh no. In order to keep time pumping the night away, he used to sing "Flower of Scotland" at the highest volume possible.

I hated to hear our national anthem used in this way and the grunting and singing made me go slightly mad.

So I would bang on the wall out of time to his stroke to put him off.

It was a fantastic game, me banging on the wall, him stopping, shouting "fucking hell!" at the top of his voice then trying to start up again.

The amount of KY they must have went through is unthinkable.
(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 16:30, Reply)
also, halls
although the majority of neighbours i shared my kitchen with in halls were lovely, brilliant people, there is a law that dictates you must have a freak.

he was a short, fat, hairy, smelly french bloke who cooked foul smelling 'food' and made every attempt possible to shag my room mate, who was having NONE of it, thank god. If a personal, drunken conversation between to women (say, getting a belly, or who's got smaller breasts) was going on in the kitchen, a small gap in his wall allowed him to hear it and run in in the hope of catching lesbo action. He had no concept of personal space and crowded you with his smelliness at every opportunity, displayed worrying psychotic tendencies, scrubbed every surface of his room on the first day in it, kept trying to get my roomie to pose naked for him (after screaming in her face about something else)...

course, he doesn't know we got hyper and tiddly once whilst he was off 'visiting his mother' (probably kept her in the basement and borrowed her dresses) and broke into his room via a death-defying roof scramble six floors up. And found the most frightening lack of personality. Nothing in it, just a locked cabinet, an empty set of shelves with a gonk on it, and a large box full of condoms. as if anyone would shag that. (there's another story there...too long though)

he was my natural enemy and i will always treasure that pure, fierce hatred i had for him, as i've never encountered it before or since. It's quite cleansing you know.

(someone will now know who i am. good. hello!)
(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 16:26, Reply)
My neighbour was lovingly dubbed...
Nutty Noel by the streets residents. He used to live with his mother, but after her death he decided to not take the tablets that helped him to not be, well, a complete crettin.
His overgrown front garden was decorated with various childrens toys, including a Mickey Mouse sellotaped to his doorstep.
His windows were always covered with newspaper articles and clippings, particularly when something big happened in the news.
We particularly enjoyed his coverage of the death of Princess Diana, where the centrepiece of his efforts was a large piece of paper, saying clearly in big, bold letters:


Don't remember what happened to him, but his house is now three bloody council houses.
(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 16:22, Reply)
i live
above a restaurant; below a flat-footed washing-machine-obsessed twunt who once put it on so many times in one day it popped and nearly took our ceiling down; one side a shoe repair shop which is constant drilling and Magic FM; and next to a screaming spanish couple and their newborn baby.

fed up with all this crap after just a few days of moving in, we decided the best route to dealing with it is VERY LOUD OBNOXIOUS SEX.

we have been here a year and a half and love it.
(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 16:00, Reply)
Gene the Nuderous Guy
One day I ran into my new downstairs neighbor in the parking lot. His name was Gene, he was in his mid 50's, bigger guy, recently divorced, hence his new digs. We talked about fishing, and he seemed to be quite a normal guy, despite his high squeeky voice.

A day or two later he called me to see if I wanted to go to a furniture auction. I declined, as I actually had a chair and two "flip and *cough* folds" to get rid of. I told him he was welcome to take a look if he was interested. He said "Sure. Unless you're naked." WTF? "Uhhh, no," was all I could manage. "Oh, well I run around naked all the time. Who's gonna care?" Good point, I guess.

He came up (clothed) with that leering look pervs have in the presence of their favorite prey. You know the look. He didn't want the furniture, and kept suggesting that we go fishing on his boat. He started calling me "Lucky" and kept talking about "The Big Eddy" at the river. I wasn't sure I wanted to know anything about his Big Eddy. {Aside: the part of "Twister" where the telephone pole falls on the truck and the little balls roll all over the place was filmed at The Big Eddy.}

We went fishing a few times (never in his boat, I didn't want to be trapped with no escape route), and a couple times we were in the presence of smoothed-faced young boys who were not related to Gene and had no real reason for knowing him. Soon, whenever I would make any kind of noise in the apartment, Gene would call up. "Heard a noise. You got a woman up there, Lucky?" Drop a book, the phone rings. Wind blows the door closed, the phone rings. My mom dubbed him "The Nuderous Guy." I began making all sorts of excuses to not go fishing, and was quite relieved when he moved in with his 80 year old parents.

He never did try anything with me, and maybe I should have distanced myself from the first, but then I wouldn't have this story!
(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 15:56, Reply)
such a relevant question
I live in the first floor flat. The only nice one in the 5-flat victorian terrace. The rest are a bit crap and attract weirdos.

Needless to say, in the basement there is a WIERD couple. Two blokes, american. One is geeky and scrawny with glasses, one looks like some mexican, short, george micheal. Every weekend, due to their patio being 2 stories down below my bedroom window, I get woken up at 7.30am by 'GM' having a screaming match at 'skinny fuck' about something. Once he was boasting about how his 'product' was 'natural' and 'real' and not 'for the masses' like 'nivea'. He then shuts his cat outside which miaows for THREE FUCKING HOURS.

Then when I set the fire alarm off (woks are great!) I got the skinny bloke coming and glaring at me whilst I reset the alarm

"is there a PROBLEM?"
"yeah.. cooking... smoke.. blah... "
"um... I was cooking?"
*glares at me*
*sighs and walks off*

And then moving a LOT of stuff into my flat (note: I've lived there 8 months more than these wierdos).... 'GM' comes out and raises his arms and screams ....

"um. I don't believe so"
"IT SOUNDS LIKE A STAMPEDE OF ELEPHANTS" (I should have pointed out to him that the floor would not sustain an elephant's weight)
"well, I'm moving stuff"
"ok. well, I haven't been here all week, so it's not me. And I'm moving stuff, so it's going to be."
*sighs and stomps off*

And recently they wake me up at 7.30 AM EVERY talking out on their patio. Without fucking FAIL. They carry the weirdest shit into that flat. And never clean the patio and it looks disgusting. And they left rubbish in the public foyer. And they're cunts. And I hate them.

That is all.
(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 15:52, Reply)
Ooooh...it was scary at the time but
A bloke i was seein a few years back had annoyed our neighbour so much that she sent her two sons around to kick the shit out of him. Now the bummer is, i was 'stayin away' for a while (cos he was a violent c*nt, but thats a different story), and only bloody chose to stay at our house that nite. So the bad thing is, he didn;t get the kickin of his life....if u knew him u'd understand.

Apologies to the neighbours sons...i ruined ur fun!
(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 15:37, Reply)
My Neighbours are....
a couple of Russian Prostitutes...they dont scare me in fact I can see their presence being something of a blessing in disguise..its their punters that scare me..the front room in their gaff must look like the cantina scene from Star Wars
(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 15:36, Reply)
No wonder no one visits my parents neighbours
because their crimes against bein decent people are stacked high. Now where do i start.....

1-They insist that the flower bed out of the front of the communal carpark belongs to them n they keep bangin on about deeds....
2-They have a car parkin area to the left of the house which they have put some naff white fence around and then insist on parkin their car, in front of the garage, as far out into the communal car park as the so called effin deeds allow (which makes it difficult for others to pull in n out of the carpark)
3-They sneer out at all that walks past and threaten to call the police on little kids that pick their bloody flowers.
4-They scowl permanently
5-They are just generally nosey old fockers.

Which is why I just love aggravating them. When im house sittin i open up the balcony doors, sit out there with the hardest music playin, damn loud n with the woofer shakin the floor. Take every opportunity to scowl at them and encourage my mates to park their cars in places that will annoy them.

On one occaision, i heard so row out the front and it was a car load of people bout my age (26) who were clearly in various states of pissed n stonedness...theyd run out of petrol n had pushed in the car park. The old bids next door were blastin em...i told the effers to piss off the that they can leave the car out front of my place...which they then proceeded to do on what the neighbours called an untidy fashion. He he he....I told the group of my agers not to listed to those old bats n that it was fine. The best bit was when the old codgers were sniffin around the car n noticed it had no tax. I just sat on the balco with my booze n basslines pissin myself laughin. The best thing is, no one visits em so who the f*ck they gunna tell.

yes its long, yes its probably not that funny, but im ill and i dont care.
(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 15:31, Reply)
Yardie Neighbours
Pappers and I used to share a flat in Harlesden. For those who know the area it was not far from the Harrow road/Scrubs Lane junction, near the muggers paradise that is Willesden Junction. It was just over the road from where poor little Toni-Ann Byfield was murdered when saw who had just shot her dad.

I wouldn't call them immediate neighbours, but we certainly lived in the proximity of some of the areas finest, most upstanding Yardies. This was around the time that a pregnant lady was shot in the leg on Tubbs Lane, just over the road, for giving a bit of verbal to one of them while exchanging details after he went into the back of her car.

One evening Pappers heard what he said sounded like a whole heap of corrugated metal falling off of a passing train (our flat commanded splendid views of the frieght line). In the morning we discovered there had been a drive-by shoot outside the nightclub ("Mr Yardies" as we knew it) about 150 yards away, in which the gangstas weapon of choice, the AK47, was used to defend the premises against a rival gang.

There were numerous incidents within a 1000 yard radius of the flat, which we would usually find out about on the evening news. After moving to the comparatively peaceful haven of Willesden Green, some friends who lived round the corner from the Harlesden place were hurriedly relocated when they witnessed an execution-style killing almost literally on their doorstep.

Harlesden may have few redeeming features, but it was home for a year, so I can't complain.

No apologies for length, you'll learn to love it.
(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 15:28, Reply)
Can I claim first prize?
1st Year.Had a Goth in the room next to me who used to listen to Ozric Tentacles at FULL volume till 5 in the morning then sleep all day, once also awoke to a kitchen full of Goths complete with vampire fangs. Also strange northern bloke in flat downstairs who found it highly amusing to watch 'specialist' porno of the rape and slashing bondage variety.

2nd Year. Lived with people I thought I liked, only to realise they were theiving cunts, lost half my CD collection and TV because one of them sold it to pay off gambling debts. Said cunt also did a runner with our deposit money when we left.

3rd Year. Mad drunken landlady falls asleep with fag on the go, burns down house. Move to shared house with twunty girlfriend from Hell and very good bass player (Although this was irritating at 3am)

First House:
PIKEY NEIGHBOURS FROM HELL. No jobs, 4 kids in a 2 up 2 down and a vocabulary that extended to fuck and off. They used their garden as a rubbish tip and torched it when it got too full. Also used to get the bailiffs round because they were ordering things in our names and then taking them while we were at work. Had 2 cars written off due to their 'driving' despite both of them having no licence and being banned for life. Mongo brother also threatened to kill me with a carving knife for failing to 'help them out' when they needed money. Both now in prison doing 5yrs.

NOW. New neighbours are lovely, apart from they never walk their dogs, which they allow to shit all over the place but never clear it up. Long hot summers with the smell of festering dog shit are so nice.
(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 15:24, Reply)
The Pyramid Family
When at university in York we lived in a desparately rough and pikey area called Tang Hall. How rough was it? Within two weeks of moving in our house had been stormed by the riot police (and my very drunken housemate slept through it, but that's another story).

Anyway, our back garden joined onto several other people's back gardens with fairly high fences between them. The third house around was inhabited by the scariest bunch of inbred weirdos you can imagine. There were about 426 of them living in that house and not one of them had a job. So how did they keep themselves busy all day? Soap operas? No. Incest? No (well, actually, probably yes, but that's not the point of the story). In fact, they spent about 6 weeks one summer entertaining themselves by building a pyramid in their back garden.

Yes, a pyramid. Practically full-size. Out of mud.

As the days went by, we watched in disbelief as this family erected a three-metre-high ziggurat out of soil and paving slabs. It was like watching a termite colony in action as they swarmed unceasingly all over this mound. And when they'd finally finished the pyramid they embedded a bathtub in the top. As you do.

We never had the slightest idea why they did all this or what it was for, as having finished it they proceeded to act as if it wasn't there. They went back to their other favourite pastime of lobbing rocks into our garden when we were trying to barbeque. Seriously. Parents egging on their brood and everything.

There's a postscript to this story. Just before I moved out I was walking down the road to the shops when I was stopped by two Mormons (Mormen?), fresh off the plane from Utah with their silly short-sleeved white shirts and name badges. They asked me if I knew anyone who needed saving. Without hesitation, I turned and pointed to the Ziggurat House. Their faces lit up with righteous glee at the thought of bringing the word of their lord to an ungodly area of Yorkshire.

There was no sign of those Mormen ever again. I'd feel guilty, but then those white short-sleeved shirts really do irritate me.
(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 15:17, Reply)
Helen Daniels.
She was a scary looking slack jawed old bint of a 'Neighbour'.

(crouches in corner rocking, whilst miming the words to 'Suddenly' by Angry Anderson)
(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 15:11, Reply)
1 weird, 1 not-so weird.

First - A quite little BT engineer guy, kept 2 massive rotweilers (i used to wrestle with them, nice doggies) but he loved american cars, and revved them up every sunday morning!

Second - Hated the neighbours, didnt even know their names. Bunch of pikeys, used to have sex with windows wide open playing spicegirls... We only found out until they were evicted, they used to breed rabbits INSIDE the house! and rubbish was thrown down the main sewer eventually causing a massive blockage.
(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 15:07, Reply)
I live next door to.................
Anne Haddy's corpse. Now thats a scary Neighbour(S) character (Helen Daniels)

Not sure if it counts?
(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 15:05, Reply)
not so much scary, but annoying...
We have the usual loud music occasionally, but nothing serious. A few doors down we have an Arthur Daley type who always has loads of cars in various states littering the street - beats doing a proper job I suppose, but it does lower the tone of the place.

Worst thing is cheeky bastards who park their cars in our allocated space – piss taking, shit eating, cock munching, fishy minge stinking uber wankers.

/apologies for my answer being shit, but I feel so much better now. Thanks. I should probably find something worthwhile to worry about, but I’m just so damn anal.
(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 15:01, Reply)
Wrist slicer
My old neighbour Mrs Mansell (I swear she was a real life witch) Came out knockin on my door when i was a kid (8) and slit her wrists in front of me shouting "GOD LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO" I should have let her bleed to death but my dad was a paramedic and he saved her life. More fool me, she torchered me as a kid, scared me shitless.. She is dead now, bless, maybe it was the selection of fireworks we lit and stuffed in her letterbox that did it???

My new neighbour is a Pikey, say no more, tattooed up to "her" Eyeballs and earings like hula hoops. NICE
(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 15:01, Reply)
the posh ones are worse
My posh neighbours & their dyke-ish unmarriable daughter are terrible, the hag (daughter) tried to assault my dad when he was holding a chainsaw in his hands, & then called the pigs & claimed he was gonna chop her up.
Then there was the time she apparently saw some friends glue a lock on a nearby footpath - got our friend a night in the can, mugshots, dna test & prints, STRIP SEARCH!, and of course, unneccessary scary interregation over a fucking lock.. that the bitch wanted glued up herself! (which she did last week).

Anyway, she got a different kind of visit from some off-duty old-bill yesterday. All good in the country hood.

Oh, and the one nice neightbour comes to drink cheapo cider (sometimes lambrini) with my mum in secret from her husband. Posh indeed.
(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 15:00, Reply)
I used to have a really nice neighbour who always had offered to bath my daughers and had a collection of slighly burned Manchester United shirts.

Nice man.. Mr Huntly or something..

Wonder what happened to him?

*giggles at the 'too far-ness' of this answer*
(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 14:57, Reply)

This question is now closed.

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