Fucking Chavs
I, for my sins, live above a Co-Op on a council estate. I'm living the Pulp tune. The steps to get up to the flat are unlit and not visible from the street or car-park. Therefore, when I get home from work around 8, there are between 15 and 30 chavs on the steps up to the 2 flats above the shop, smoking weed and 'fingerbanging' each other.

Due to this, I would like the help of all you b3tards reading this to petition the Home Secretary to make the use of FLAMETHROWERS legal.

Thanks,

Teh Rich
(FiftyFour, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 21:14, Reply)

Motorbikin', alsatian wieldin' varmints.
We used to live in a terraced street in the 70's and while we had normal neighbours to the left, the neighbours to the right were responsible for things that scared me as a lad.

The bloke, Alan, would repair his motorbike in the living room. The revving of it used to terrify me as I thought the bike would come crashing through the wall. My old man went next door and.. well, he must have been convincing as the bike didn't get repaired indoors again.

The lass, Nora (or Nutty Nora as my folks christened her) had great big alsatian (no, not the reason behind my name) and she couldn't control it. It escaped the house one day and had at me until my mother scared it away. My mother then threatened to rip Nora's head off if it got out again!

Thing is, Alan was actually a nice chap. I think he and Nora separated after we all moved onto the 'new estate' in 1980. The last I saw of him was as a contestant on '15 to 1' in the early 90's.
(Green-Alsatian, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 21:14, Reply)

Watching
There's a small gap in my fence that looks in to my conservatory.The neighbours 15 year old grandson, who isn't a mentalist in the conventional drooling sense, has been known to spend two hour staring through the gap at me. I've now put a blind in the way, but I can't shake off the feeling that cold, impassive fish stare isn't still patiently watching, waiting for me to lift the blind. The neighbours have also been saying he's always going on about me and what good mates we are wtf?!? Worringly we're both men. Apparently my neighbours think it would be a good idea for him to spend sometime with me as he's got no friends and we're about the same age. I'm 24 he's 15, its not like a could take him to a strip club.

The lesson the learn from this is never, under any circumstances, strike up a conversation however brief with your neighbours 15 year old grandson.
(mm123, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 21:05, Reply)

Oh and
My parents live in a fairly posh bit of Belfast. A few years ago, the neighbours sold up, their house was demolished and a small close of six or seven Barrett-style homes went up.

Now, there had previously been sharp words between my dad and one of the new neighbours who had taken to cutting back other people's trees & shrubs if he reckoned they encroached on "his" land (i.e. anywhere at all within the close, which does not in any way belong to him). So my old man explained a few concepts to him, such as trespass, criminal damage, theft, going equipped, various conspiracy offences etc and no more was heard...

That is, until my dad got someone in to cut the lawn a couple of weeks ago. He parked his van on the corner of the road into the close next door, and this bloke came piling out of his house to remonstrate. There was much waving of arms and shouting the odds, until the offended party came out with: "Do you know who you are dealing with here? Do you know who I am? I AM EAMONN HOLMES' BROTHER!!!" Followed by the all-too-rare sight of the gardener actually rolling on the floor laughing his arse off.
(Wong Fei-Hung - now with added flickr.com (see profile), Thu 25 Aug 2005, 21:04, Reply)

Infant coprophilia
The girl I was seeing at the time lived next door to a right bunch of antisocial wankers. Either they were quadrafuckingplegic or could not be arsed walking to the bins outside the flat to put their rubbish away. No big deal for the most part, but then they decided that lobbing shitty nappies out of the window was a sound disposal method. This went on for bloody *weeks*...

Obviously this vexed my gf somewhat as she'd bought the place and didnt want some bunch of inbred weegie oiks making the place look like a midden. One night, coming home from the boozer, after a severe skinful and having had to listen to this *all night*, I decided to take action.

I rounded up each and every turd laden nappy I could find, and, retching horribly, piled them up on her neighbours doorstep. It amounted to about fifteen all in, the dorty fuckers.

Standing back to admire my handiwork I decided it wasnt complete without a calling card, so picking up one particularly well loaded huggy, using it to daub "NO" in large brown/green on the front door. I didnt think I had enough cack to write "STOP" or I would have.

Co-incidentally enough the following day the Council paid our neighbours a visit and tore them off a strip but not before charging them a kings ransom to remove my handiwork.

Apologies for length...
(mymilkshakebringsallthemongstotheyard poison hearts, poison minds - joining hate, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 20:41, Reply)

One of our neighbours went bananas
Big lady she was. Looked like Dolf Lundgren. Used to throw shoes at the walls (you could hear them at 1am in the morning). One day she came out ranting that our dog was Satan.

Funny old world!
( Reckless_Rik, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 20:36, Reply)

5 a.m. Appointment
Long-in-the-Tooth used to walk into my house and use the phone without bothering to knock first. Exciting - a woman without a sense of boundaries! Then, she was evicted after suing her landlord because she fell down some steps.

Despite losing her digs, she kept coming around. One morning at 4 a.m., driving past the old place, she fell asleep and drove into a post. Now she was in anguish: not because of the ruined car, but because she had an appointment.

So, as she spoke in tongues and her eyes rolled into her head, I drove her to the clinic - a methadone clinic (explaining a lot), where an amazing and patient crowd of people had gathered at 5 a.m.: didn't even know the place was there!

Know Thy Neighbor!
(Perv With A Dog had his eyes pecked out by scrub jays on, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 20:27, Reply)

"Washing"
I live with my mighty fine lady in a ground floor maisonette in Heaton, Newcastle Upon Tyne. Our new upstairs neighbours have to share our yard for hanging washing etc...
They moved in 8 weeks ago while we were away, and after a few days we worked out it was 1 guy and 2 girls up there. No problem in that, its 3 bedrooms and the area of Newcastle we live in is mainly occupied by students in shared accommodation.
Then they started hanging washing in the yard. Now most normal people get their washing in once it drys. Not these guys and gals. It stays out until its been rained on. Twice. How do I know this? I have a broken leg (see profile for pic) and spend my days in a Hitchcock "Rear Window" style watching the goings on outside. Luckily for them, in even in August, it rains at least once a week in the North east. The record so far is 5 days left on the line. There are 5 tea towels out there now, 2 days on and still no rain....

Oh yeah, we offended them yesterday. They had a party on Tuesday night and one of the girls popped down on Wednesday morning to apologise for being noisy. My GF said "No problem, we just guessed it was a student party". The reply? "We're not students!" .... The mystery deepens.....
( Misterk1973 been a hanging around these here parts since, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 20:14, Reply)

This was shortly before I moved out of my dads place, there I was stiing with a friend of min at about 4 in the morning watching an episode of the love boat featuring The Hoff and I was trying to figure out how to get into her pants
Suddenly there's a loud thumping at the door, I go out, open the inner door and hear a woman shouting my name and my dads name.

I open the outer door and see my neighbour from down the street, she's in her early thirties and not unattractive, however she's also wobbling around like a one legged belly dancer and holding a baby.

First she tries to barge into the house, but I politley keep her out and after a bit I manage to determine that she's locked out of the house.

So I'm thinking I have a few skills in the getting-into-locked-houses-department, so I walk her down the street (I decided to carry the baby before she dropped it).
Halfway down the street she falls into a hedge. I pick her out and she hugs me, saying stuff like
"You're a good boy aren't you, you're not rude to your dad, you treat people nice"
and I'm like "yeah uh huh whatever"

So I get her down to her house only to discover that she's not locked out, the front door is wide open.

By this point my spider sense is tingling more than a little.

I get her into the living room, sit her down on the sofa before she falls down again, put the baby on the sofa and I'm starting to think about maybe getting one of her sons to put the baby to bed or something when she stands up, grabs me and says "here give us a kiss" she's about to plant one on me when

*DING!*

I remembered her husband, her massive husband, he's over six feet tall, half as wide and could punch a donkey through a wall.

I ducked out of the way, twisted her round so she fell back on the sofa, dived outside and dashed (barefoot) back up the street.I never thought I'd be so glad to see the love boat or The Hoff in my life.

I didn't get into my friends pants that night, but when I eventually did, I did genuinely have to apologise for length.

You lot don't get the same respect, you'll just have to put up with it.

Thank you and goodnight.
( VampireMonkeyOnSpeed a super sexy sexual sex terrorist sex, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 20:10, Reply)

I live next door to a real cunt
This fat fucker keeps on walking around his garden with no clothes on and singing at the top of his voice! As soon as I look out of the window I'd find him staring at me.

When I first saw him staring back I tried to hide, but now I just stare back until he fucks off.

I tell all the kids at work (I'm a teacher) about this chap and what he's been up to recently and they think it's hilarious!
( Johnny Catfish - Yowsa!, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 19:47, Reply)

Teacher peeper.
I have a nosey neighbour who is a teacher. Every so offten when I am outside in the garden I can feel the warmth of an intense stare borring into the back of my head. Occaisionally I see him staring at me through one of his (too many for a house that size) windows, he used to duck down and poke his head back up again to make sure if I'd seen him or not, nowerdays though he just stares back. I don't know what it is with that man, but if I ever have the pleasure of going round to his house I know it'll just be an empty shell with photographs of me in the garden decorating the walls.
(WiggZ, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 19:34, Reply)

wierdos....
first i knew of my friends neighbours was seein the mother and daughter goin to the bus stop each morning. The mother just looks...well plain wierd, greyin long birdsnest hair and always draggin a load of washing in one of those draggin suitcase things. With her is always her daughter. about 18/19 age. Trinny and Susannahs nightmare. yellow tracksuit bottoms and green jumper type thing. Now the daughter just talks plain wierd, whiney sort of meeper type thing. Now the house, i never knew that existed..its behind such over grownstuff....and the dad, only knew he existed cos my horse jumped out of his skin when he spotted him lurkin in the hedgerow. They always ask questions and they always make you feel creepy.

Not a housing neighbour but colleague....about 5'10'', 8 stone black hair in a basin hair cut, that his dad does and eats so noisily it makes u wanna punch him daily. Believe me, its bad. The only good thing is that he goes all day without speaking. And when he does its like a sort of uuuuuhhh sound. Retard.
(Oops....did I say that out loud cos I really bloody want to., Thu 25 Aug 2005, 19:34, Reply)

I *AM* the scary neighbour...
I live in a semi-detached house. My next-door neighbour on my detached side is a 30-odd year old police-woman with 2 pleasant and well-behaved kids. My next door neighbour on my attached side is a pretty normal lady, early-50's maybe.

I however, am a 20 year old girl living in a 3 bedroomed house by myself, who keeps having lots of (male) friends coming round for 10-man 52-hour LAN parties, and keeps a 4.5-foot long solid steel Klingon bat'leth, and a 4-foot long broadsword over the mantelpiece in my front room. I also have friends turn up with obsolete computers and nice shiny laser printers for me...and no-one ever sees any of the machines leave again (because they don't).

I'm scary quiet, even when having the LAN parties, I have scary amounts of beer cans/bottles and gin bottles and tonic water bottles, etc etc. in my recycling box each fortnight and yet am never seen drunk.

I am weird...If I lived next door to me, I'd be creeped out by me...
(Lifson Kofie, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 19:28, Reply)

Scary Neighbours?
How about the women who lives just across the road? She has 5 dogs, all of which who want to eat me and have bitten me twice. Unfortunately tonight, she calls up the house and says, "Ahhh David, coming over for a quickie?".

Shame thats my dads name....

*runs off to bleach his mind*
( The Sisko I hate the whole world, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 19:19, Reply)

Good lord
I made this ages ago.

And it's all still true.

See, the elephants that live upstairs... though I suppose now they sound more like rutting animals... but it goes on all day, and men come and go...

And downstairs? The smoke, good lord... all day, all night, pot, hash, crack... the man smokes it all... it's worse in the winter...

And every time I shower, the lady upstairs flushes her toilet repeatedly... *cries*

I pay them back though. Oh yes, the retribution is sweet indeed...
(Ecclesia, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 19:14, Reply)

I've had a couple of.... odd ones.
My current upstairs neighbour (I'm the down of a two up - two down maisonette) is a very odd one indeed. He looks like a cross between Willie Nelson and Mick Jagger, only much uglier. And smellier. And fatter. He's a pretty nice bloke, but he has taken up all his carpets and put down hardwood floors - these do not stop sound at all. Normally I'm not too bothered by the footsteps and other day to day noises, but when he brings back his bit of stuff (a...creature...that is at least 60 and would make Hilda Ogden look like a good lay) I have to listen to it - creaky bed and high pitch croaky squeals of delight included. Not a pleasent experience.

Then there was my last house. My neighbours when I moved in were students who were noisy and got complained about a lot. The fuzz couldn't touch them (stupid tenancy laws), so the landlord did. Many times. With a metal baseball bat. He hospitalised all three of them, single-handedly, at the same time. Then he moved in after they vacated. I made sure I never pissed him off. His fit missus sunbathing all the time more than made up for the fear of living next to a psycho though :)
( Damocles wants no part of your debauchery, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 19:11, Reply)

Remember that Mr Trebus on the Life of Grime programme?
Well, when I was living in Crewe, I had a whole family of Trebuses living next door. They used to collect their rubbish in the back garden, piles and piles of black bags. In the summer it was awful. I couldn't go in the back garden, the smell was that bad. The last straw was when my kitchen had a flying ants infestation - turns out they'd come in from a nest next door, after the Environmental Health had checked it out.

Thoroughly nice people, though, if I'd had any deliveries to my house and I wasn't in, they'd look after the stuff for me. They just stank. And shagged very loudly.
(scentless_apprentice takes two bottles into the shower!, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 19:01, Reply)

Every town has one..
The local nutter. She lived next door and provided no end of fun ie questioning me about my like for oral sex when I was 4 (not liked by mumsy one little bit), interviewing bushes with empty pop bottles, keeping a dead kitten in her top pocket.

Now she has gone, and I have left the area also, but in my mother's advancing years she become a curtain twitcher and reports the daily goings on that she spies occurring across the road. The couple in question, dubbed 'The Perverts in the Kellogs House' are her particular favourites. The guy chucks dog turds hes picked up off the grass at passers by and reverses his car into parked cars on purpose. For no apparent reason.
Each to their own eh?
(ell, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 18:58, Reply)

1st year at uni
the sunshine elephant was in the room next to me.
Oh the hilarity that ensued!
Such as him hiding in my bed when i went for a shower, then proceeding to jack-off till i got back. Other times it was just general nakedness in my bed, it didnt bother him if i was in it or not. He only started to stop this after 1 too many times of him wrapping his monkey limbs around me had caused me to flip and head butt him
Don't worry, i didnt do anything to his pretty face.
(The Sunshine Elephants "Special" Friend, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 18:58, Reply)

Living in a nice middle class area, as I do
I've never really had any scary neighbours. My only complaint is that as far back as I can remember, couples have moved in to either of the houses next door, had two kids, then leave as soon as the kids have got past the loud, annoying stage in order for another couple to move in and do exactly the same. I'm quite surprised when I go anywhere else and there isn't a constant soundtrack of crying babies in the background.
As a side note, we often hear about a year after they've moved away that the couple are splitting up. Odd, that.
( useful_idiot, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 18:47, Reply)

Scary Neighbours Indeed....
one of my current neighbours has a "roof cleaning fetish". Every week hail, rain or shine the krazy kraut is up on his roof with a broom, a box and a brush. I think this may have something to do with the fact that his roof is flat and lines up straight through our french doors into the dining/living room. He has cut down branches that obscue his view from his yard up into our windows so I have had to put up this crappy shoddy eye-sore screen to protect what little privacy we have left. I think he used to be in the SS!
( Zank Frappa Who let the lefties in?, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 18:36, Reply)

she didn't used to be as crazy
I used to live around the corner from Teresa Heinz Kerry before she got Kerried. How scary is that?

Actually, she was much more sane back then - before her first husband (the king of ketchup) died in a plane crash.
( kingoffools, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 18:29, Reply)

My old downstairs neighbour..
..was totally insane.

Among other things, he once decided I was making too much noise. So he ran out of his place (his flat was on the groundfloor) wearing nothing but his pants.

This was in January, and it was blowing an absoleute gale, and raining really hard.

Then he picked up his old xmas tree which was outside, and used it to bang on my window.

I looked out to see this fat soaked maniac in his pants, trying to hang on to a 8ft tall fir tree, being blown about all over the garden in the middle of a force 10.
(inflateable, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 18:26, Reply)

Ahhh the fun...
Immediate neighbours are great, we have a laugh with them. but their neighbours...MY GOD! Absolute weirdos...One of the kids has problems, now I've got nothing against people with problems, but when its this kid, the one who hangs over the fence and watches us have BBQs and stuff...its a bit too far. An 8foot fence doesn't even stop them...nuu uhh. During teh summer holidays its war time and I am not joking. They're that bad the police have been involved several times. One of them attacked my sister in the street...shes 14, my sister is 12, was 10 or so at the time. My mum has lived in the same house all ehr like, almsot 40 years now and has never had problems with neighbours, until they moved in. NO ONE likes them and I mean absolutley no body.
(Tormentedpuffin bleughhhhh, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 18:19, Reply)

the knife-wielding psycho next door...
A few years ago, I lived in one of those posh yuppy residential developments on the banks of the Thames in East London.

One of our neighbours was a really nasty piece of work - he had a dog that he used to take out for a walk in the courtyard early most mornings. I say walk, but "drag" would be a more appropriate word. He would also kick it and scream at it for no apparent reason. This was a big dog, a lurcher or something like that, but it was clearly a nervous wreck and utterly terrified of its owner.

We reported him to the RSPCA, but when I mentioned this to another of my neighbours, he warned me: "I'd be careful of him if I were you - you really don't want him to know it was you that reported him."

Was I scared? Fuck, yes. The man was clearly a psycho of the first order.

Then as if by magic he suddenly disappeared and we never saw him again. Great, you might think. Only we later found out that the reason he disappeared was because he had gone to prison - it turns out he was the same nutter that murdered someone on a train in France during the 1998 World Cup. And why did he murder him? Just because he suspected him of being Argentinian...
( smutch, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 18:18, Reply)

Tank
My neighbour is a right wing, gun-toting nationalist. As well as a veritable armoury of weapons, he owns a tank. I shit you not. It's called Matilda. This is in the middle of rural Hampshire. How bloody scary is that?!

Our other neighbour - well, technically a neighbour, as he owns the next house along, which is about a mile away - is the drummer from Status Quo. I shit you not again.

Beat that!
( Peregr1n @peregr1n, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 17:59, Reply)

Just off Narrow Street, London
Used to live a a nice flat in Docklands, only being a brand new complex, the ceilings and walls had the approx. thickness of a sheet of A4 paper.

We always knew when it was 7.30pm on Sunday, because that's when the woman and her boyfriend upstairs got down and jiggy. It got to the point that we could set our watches to it. We actually got worried if we hadn't heard anything by 7.31...

But they weren't too bad, the guy who lived opposite was waaay scarier - the day he moved in, he had a massive row with (we presume) a girlfriend, who promptly disappeared, never to be seen again - the same night he spent all night sitting on the edge of his balcony, playing all the best breakup music you could imagine, drinking out of a bottle of vodka with a straw. Every 5 minutes I'd look up to his flat, waiting for him to loose his balance and plunge into our garden below.

He used to like watching us while we sat infront of the TV - the full length patio door curtains were bought soon after...

I'd apologise for the length of the curtains, but they had their uses!
( HSDriver was probably still at work on, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 17:52, Reply)

On my street....
There are the following:

- A shelter for drug-addled women and their children

- A half-way house for mentally and physically disabled people (admittedly it's the staff that are the weirdest people in that building)

- Not one but 2 buildings providing temporary housing for parents with problem children

- Flats for care-in-the-community folks

- A very large Bridge club frequented by overly exciteable elderly folk

- A Catholic centre, club and Church for your daily dose of organised religion

- A psychotic lady who launches herself down her garden path screaming "YOU BASTARD!" if she hears a cat making any sort of noise

There are only about 30 houses on the entire street.

Scary enough for ya?!
( kitty_cat, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 17:48, Reply)

I live next door to stusut79
I win.
( Pachey, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 17:26, Reply)

The pigeon would never know
Our neighbour to the left is six-foot-seven with interchangeable attachments for his right arm stump. He has three teeth, a false eye made entirely out of dried fruit and he sweats oil. His name is Jerry and we get on with him famously. We often lend him our wardrobe and he reciprocates by grazing on our lawn.

Our other neighbour, however, is quite odd. She moved in around eight months ago. It was just after Christmas and I was feeling rather down as I tend to do once the festive season is coming to a close. Following the doctor's advice my partner had been tucked up in bed since Boxing Day, suffering from a severe bout of Henry's Chin. She had been sucking her ankles for three days straight so I had resorted to sleeping on the couch with only a small loaf for comfort.

One night, when the snow had just about cleared, I was awoken from my downstairs slumber by a spasmodic tap at the window. I peered through the darkness at the mantlepiece as a thin shaft of cold blue light illuminated the face of our carriage clock: 4.05am. Who on earth would be tapping at our living room window at such an hour? A mischievous youth? Some creature of the night?

With only a pair of pale blue cotton briefs to preserve my modesty, I made my way creakily toward the window. I parted the curtains a fraction and peeped out. There, in the centre of the crisp, frosted lawn stood a slender woman of around thirty-five with close-cropped blond hair and clothed only in a white thong and bra. Despite her slim frame her breasts were full and healthy like a pair of dead labrador puppies in miniature silk hammocks. Her expression was blank, though she had tears in her eyes that could have been caused by the bitter cold, or maybe by a deep sorrow within her heart. Her lips already appeared blue. I could not leave this thing of beauty standing there in the dark.

Despite my wood, I departed from the warmth of the house and onto the lawn. The frosted blades of grass crunched delicately beneath my bare feet as a subtle, chill breeze kissed and licked at my nipples, and they responded by reaching outward from my chest like hungry anemones grasping for plankton in the ocean of the morning air. I approached the frozen lawnvixen. The cold caused me to gasp and my thick, warm breath shrouded her breasts, forming fragile crystals of ice upon her soft, moist skin. I quietly asked her why she was standing on my lawn at 4.05am on such a cold winter's morning. She gently took my hand and led me into the house next door. I asked her what was wrong and she pointed silently at the stairs just within the doorway. Her face was numb from the cold so I struck it a mighty blow with my right elbow. "Speak, o frozen harpy of the night!" I bellowed. "Divulge unto me thy reasons for moonlit winter frolicks!" She stared blankly, her only movement a vain effort to try and lick her own eyebrow. It was clear she would not speak so I thought it best to look at the stairs and try to identify the problem.

It was then that the noise began. It was the most guttural, primeval grunt, and though it emanated from the woman's wide-open mouth, her head tossed back as though catching falling ham, its origins were far deeper. I could only describe the sound as that of a gravel pancreas mounted by a bald, rectal fox with Steve Penk's disgustingly misguided sense of self-importance, and it made me sick. I distracted the groaning wretch for a second or two with a tasteless Rod Hull impersonation and fled from the house and back next door to the warmth of my couch.

I have not seen our neighbour since that morning, but every time I walk past her house I can hear that same bowel-raping, churning sound from behind the door.

My partner recovered quickly from her illness, although her chin is still somewhat gluey.
(stusut79, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 17:12, Reply)