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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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Top Floor, YG Building.
Eight of us to a corridor. This gal lived opposite my room, on the top floor of YG in North Wales.

I was 18, she was 23. She also smoked and drank almost every day, which will be relevant later on. As a person she was quite safe, I mean, we were friends, but not friends in those circumstances. Just she wasn't well, fit. She wasn't a munter either to be fair, I just wasn't into it in the wake of a headfucking breakup at Xmas.

Until the late nights.

I'm of these nocturnals who sleep in til 10-12 almost everyday if I can, going to sleep only at 4 in the morning. She comes in at 1am, absolutly drunk and horny. She raps on my door. And then again. Loudly. I open the door and peer round.

Cue loud longing moaning and a growl of "Y'reee sexy Fox..."

Ohshit. I gently push her away to bed, as the good friend I am. End of situation? Oh no m'dears.

Two weeks later, she does the same trick, albeit earlier in the evening. This time she moans even louder that she was really horny and that she wanted me to "satisfy her". I again told her to get some sleep and closed the door on her. Another knock and polite fox I am, I open it. She's been there for all of the past minute.

Go. To. Bed. I say. And close the door. WHAM! She's only gone and jammed her foot in the door, arm reaching - trying to grope at me! I somehow manage to push her away and send her back to her room...after she'd tried to come into my just like that, unlocked door and all.

Another knock and whining moan. By now I'd put the bolt on my door. She was banging and thrashing and moaning loudly, and people were reportedly poking their heads out to see what the blazes was abroad. I on the other paw, was barricaded, terrified in my room!

Another soft knock and then something being slipped under my door. Followed by "There y'gow when yeh ready foxy". It was only a condom being given to me!

That did it. Barricading and both bolts on my door put on, I settled down to watch my Slayers NEXT instead.

End? Not quite. One night we were in her room. She'd had a bit to drink but not too much, I surmised. Watching TV...she slips an arm up my back and lies down with me. I'm getting tired, so I lost it. I started to drowse off, but then she grabs my hands and lets me fondle her assets under her shirt! (Not half bad either, I must confess). Cue then, moaning from her of how she wants me to fuck her hard and good. Close up, breathing on me....she smelt. It was like tar and sour lemon sweets mixed with stale beer. Icky icky! I'm cornered. Or am I?

Back massages and neck massages. Thank the bloody Gods for them, I say! Basically, I relaxed her into a calm sleep, lain beside her...and then I stealthily, ninja-tastically departed from her room, naviagting through the junkheap that cluttered her floor without a sound. And retreated to my room and locked myself in again. The End.

Not quite. I find out later that had we made the beast with two backs, she might not have been happy.

I'm just one of these honourable types who won't deceive a drunk woman. Mrf.

PS. I am not gay.
(, Fri 26 Aug 2005, 5:06, Reply)
I live in an Apartment Building
So that gives me an extra dose of neighboors to deal with. People right above me are right assholes. I think they are an asian couple or something, but they move around SO LOUDLY. Especially at night. It's like they run on their heels around the house at 1 am. On certain occasions they like to fuck loudly right above where I sleep...ugh.
Across the hall, lives this Russian guy with his wife. He is ok, but when you meet him, he will keep on yapping about things. On some occasions he would come by to give us something useless he would dig up places. So far he gave us a seashell, bike tire pump, pizza, bread among other things. Odd fella.
(, Fri 26 Aug 2005, 5:02, Reply)
I am not saying my neighbours have any alleged criminal connections,
1. He rides a Harley and wears Gypsy Joker MC colours - also about 6' 4" covered in tatts
2. He goes away for weeks at a time leaving the house empty
3. His current "partner" is an early twenties, blonde, large breasts, skimpily dressed young lady (as were the last 4 - this is in 2 1/2 years)
4. Every so often 3 or 4 clones of his partner come to the house, in seperate vehicles but usually within an hour of eachother, parking their cars on the front garden and leave 2 or 3 days later, also within an hour of eachother.
5. There are no kids in the house yet 2 of the bedroom windows can be seen from our place - often have blue lights on, despite heavy curtains, for weeks at a time.
6. Well I suppose the pots with large cannabis plants that have been stripped of leaves, placed in the garden for a week at the end of a growing cycle are a bit of a giveaway.
7. Several large chemical containers in the recycling every couple of months.
8. When not riding his bike, he has had a succession of expensive modified V8 Holden Commodores - SS and Clubsport - about 6 since he moved in.

and, best of all

9. there are usually 2 or 3 coffins in the back garden, these change regularly and I know he does not work at a funeral home

but otherwise, lovely chap

(, Fri 26 Aug 2005, 4:29, Reply)
Not so much scary...
but i swear my quiet librarian-type female neighbour was a high-class miss whiplash.

she seemed timid and nervous on the outside, but drove a little red sports car and had a regular stream of late-night male visitors all driving very nice expensive sportscars.
(, Fri 26 Aug 2005, 4:03, Reply)
I think I'm the bad neighbour
Many moons ago when I was living at home with my parents we had a cat turn up in our garden who had somehow managed to get over the fence. It was very friendly and I took quite a shine to it even though it looked very old, had no teeth and could only walk about 2 foot.

My mother asked the neighbours if anyone had lost a cat but to no avail. So being the good Samaritans we are, we kept it in the garage and fed it porridge hoping someone would claim it. 3 days had passed and my mother was not too happy about the arrangement and took the cat to the vet as it didn't move a lot and we thought it couldn't survive on porridge.

I arrived home that day to find out the vet had decided it was best to put the cat down as it was very old. Surprise, surprise the door bell rang that night with our new neighbours enquiring if we had seen their cat.
To be honest they took it very well considering it was the oldest cat in Britain at the time, 23 human years old!

Oh well it probably saved the old scamp from meeting Ian Wright on Guinness World Records.
(, Fri 26 Aug 2005, 3:30, Reply)
At No. 6
P.S. The neighbours on the other side ride Harley Davidsons and love their beer.
Absolute top family and the best neighbours you could wish for.
(, Fri 26 Aug 2005, 3:22, Reply)
At No. 2
My neighbours are an Italian couple in their 60’s.
The old lady often hoses the paths and driveway – but only if it is raining at the time. The goal seems to be getting rid of the rainwater with tap water.
The old man waits until the old lady goes out and then he locks up the house from the inside and closes all the drapes. Without fail, you will then hear the theme tune of “Xena Warrior Princess” start up on the TV / video. I’m guessing this show is his version of home porn.
They hate any trees that are not palm trees. The only two near his property were a Norfolk Island pine in my front yard that strangely developed drill holes and died of poisoning shortly after I refused his demand to chop it down, and the other one was on the corner of an adjoining park which “just caught fire”. It then fell blocking a sugar cane train line.
A police officer friend reckons the old man is a pedophile because of the strange way he hides in the bushes in his front garden having a smoke and watching pedestrians go by. The old man tells me it's because his wife doesn't like to see him smoking.

Another neighbour was having a new roof installed and without saying a word the old man climbed the ladder and sat on the neighbours’ roof (2 stories high) just watching my neighbour go about his work.

The old lady made a complaint to council that my boxer dog was shitting in my backyard. Not even near her boundary – just in my backyard. I have since trained him to shit near her fence.

Their grown up daughter, God bless her, is as nutty as mum and dad but in fairness she does have a brain impairment stemming from an illness as a child. To boost her self esteem, they revel in telling her she is fat, stupid and unwanted. More recently they moved her into an investment unit they own and made sure the phone can only dial 000 (same as 999 / 911). So if she gets lonely or scared she can only call up the long suffering police or paramedics.
I do get away from their shenanigans when I’m on night shift. As a paramedic. Who is routinely responded to their daughter. I take great delight in waking the old couple up at 4am to inform them that their daughter needs them. It is usually about this time that their English comprehension magically falters.
(, Fri 26 Aug 2005, 3:17, Reply)
eh not so weird
neighbors behind us trim their trees and just so happens that all the leaves fall into our yard.. over the fence..

neighbor kinda below us (we live on a hill) leaves huuge bins of cat food out so all the stray cats have food. then he'll go out kind at night and yell one of their names or sumthin.. even tho they never come..
(, Fri 26 Aug 2005, 3:12, Reply)
I am the scary neighbour
Or at least, i was, when it came to one of my famous parties. This time i decided to be nice and warn my nice elderly neighbours that there would be a teenage party coming up, so not to be suprised at the noise (£200 speakers)

All is generally well, the only way the neighbours may possibly be disturbed is the low bass throb you could hear from quite a distance away.. or possibly the couple of people being sick outside.. Anyways, it was getting quite late and some more friends were due to arrive.. but.. they didn't actually know exactly where i lived, they knew the street and the general area, but not the actual area..

Imagine an old ladies suprise, at the doorbell ringing quite late in the evening, only to be greeted by a tall scary bloke with a mohawk, with about 15 people standing behind him, all of the stoner sort, probably already smoking, most with piercings in odd places :P She was very nice about it though simply said "erm, i think you want next door"

Edit: And the time when i was round a friends house, and i threw a vodka bottle onto the neighbours roof.. Those neighbours were pretty scary after that
(, Fri 26 Aug 2005, 3:00, Reply)
One set of neighbours like to make bombs and blow up fields. The other neighbours killed my little brother.

True story.

Oh, I'm new, BTW...
*feels the room backing away slowly*
(, Fri 26 Aug 2005, 2:26, Reply)
My best friend had a creepy neighbour. When we were in grade seven, after my friend first bought glasses, we were sitting on my friend's front lawn, and Len called the police on us. He hadn't recognised my friend with his new glasses.

The guy moved in with a wife and son. The son was taken away after the wife tried to kidnap him. I don't know where they are now.

One time my friend's mom saw the guy taking huge stacks of plywood into his home. She asked him "What are you doing?" and he said "Making shelves."

Finally, the weirdo moved out a few years ago, and the neighbours all got a chance to see inside the place. There was apparently one room filled to capacity with plywood boards. He was a pack rat who kept everything, including newspapers. The grass in the backyard was knee-deep. I have a picture somewhere and I'll see if I can find it.
(, Fri 26 Aug 2005, 2:26, Reply)
a rumbling noise
they mow their lawn at night.
when it's dark.

and no one's seen them in years.

oh, and the other one's a palm tree farmer who welds things at odd hours. which is quite loud.

he tried to kill his mother one night and the police were in the neighborhood. that was cool.
(, Fri 26 Aug 2005, 1:47, Reply)
Big, bald and BALLISTIC
Opposite my old dad's house in Southwest Wales lives a complete smegging nutter by the name of Derek. Former army, gone completely ploppo. Here a few things he's done.

- Cut off the water supply to the 85 year old granny next door.
- Kidnapped my dog twice and left him 30 miles down the road.
- Cut the heads of over 200 daffodils belonging to a local farmer (and then carefully carried the heads away)
-Set fire to a chicken coop, belonging to same farmer, killing over 50 chickens
-Threatened me with a gun, when I was 14, saying he'd kill my dog
-Mowed his lawn at 6am every bleeping Sunday
-Put up a sign across from my dad's house saying: 'ROAMING DOGS WILL BE TAKEN TO THE POLICE STATION' A few weeks, later the word AGAIN was added.
-Taken a picture of himself, the same day of every year with the same camera in the same clothes, put them alongside each other in his house and is convinced he's looking younger each year (he really isn't)

And because the council can't pin anything on him, the saga is ongoing.
(, Fri 26 Aug 2005, 1:24, Reply)
The Tatters.
I grew up on a council estate in Hull, down a nice little cul-de-sac. I have many happy memories of playing with the neighbours kids etc.....until The Tatters moved in. They were a *ahem* nomadic family who had finally got a council house and mum just happened to teach one of the kids at the local school. Kid got into trouble at school? Twin and I got beat up. Kid got into trouble at school? Mum got threatened by Tatterdad.
One night, twin and I were coming home from the school disco, and all 6 of the Tatters dogs decided they didn't like us. Twin and I jumped into a 6ft hedge until the nice neighbours heard our screams for help.
Oh boy, the Tatters were not happy about the police presence that night (the dogs bit 2 of the neighbours in their attempts to get us out of the hedge and home safe).

One New Years Eve, when I was about 14, mum had one of her NYE parties and the whole street ('cept the Tatters) came and we ended up doing the conga down the grove. Tatterdad came out and threatened us all with a shotgun in his hand. 2 months later the evil little cunt was sent down for kidnap and rape of a disabled woman (on that New Years Eve).
(, Fri 26 Aug 2005, 0:39, Reply)
I lived on the fifth floor of an L-shaped building in the apartment in the corner of the long arm of the L. Simon (Thimon!) lived on the short arm two doors down, and all the apartments shared an open 8-foot-wide breezeway as all the apartments opened to the outside. Thimon was an extravagantly limp-wristed, swishy gay man who wore nothing but ultra-short running shorts (either fluorescent pink or green) and spoke with an affected lithp.

Thimon was fond of sitting outside on the breezeway, trimming his toenails and rubbing a pumice-stone on his calluses for hours every day.

Thimon would have screaming fits about my cat staring at him through the window and slam his door yelling about how "that fawking cat is thtaring at me again! Oh, my GAWD!!!" He would also start screaming and slamming his doors whenever his precious potted plants wilted or shed leaves, claiming it was my (entirely) indoor cat's fault.

Thimon also enjoyed yelling at the top of his lungs while vacuuming his carpet at 4 in the morning. Every morning.

I hear they had trouble evicting him - he's apparently a complete batsh*t loonball who gets government benefits and can't work. And the previous manager rented to him by mistake - the building's owner does not accept Section 8 housing vouchers.
(, Fri 26 Aug 2005, 0:31, Reply)
Not Scary
but a complete bitch for refusing to cut down her 40ft tall leylandi trees that block the sunshine into my garden. I've got the last laugh though, she will soon be getting an ASBO in the post forcing her to cut the fucking things down. (probably at a cost of around 3000 quid. :)

Hey, she should of cut them down years ago when I asked nicely.
(, Fri 26 Aug 2005, 0:17, Reply)
Back when I lived with my dad...
...We lived on a street, which all the occupants feared/were intrigued by a policewoman of all careers!!

She used to do the usual crazy stuff, like do the gardening in the snow, take pictures of beer cans in the street and complain about kids playing football in the field (100 yards away from her house and during the day) on the grounds that they kept her awake!

But the most worrying thing was...One day she came to our door, complaining to my dad that 'his kids were causing trouble in the street and shouting abuse at her through her windows'. Bearing in mind that me and my sister had been inside all day with flu...and there were no kids on the street!! Cure a shouting match between my dad and the policewoman!! She really spooked me!

Oh yea, heard she poisoned a neighbours cat once aswell!
(, Fri 26 Aug 2005, 0:11, Reply)
Scary but dead
My ex-neighbour upstairs once threw a set of car tyres out of his kitchen window into our garden. He had forgotten to open the window first though. He's dead now. Jumped from the scaffolding of our house. Probably looking for his tyres.
(, Fri 26 Aug 2005, 0:04, Reply)
more wierd than scary
and not really my neighbours,mine are great!
my parents however....i went to theirs last week."what the fuck is that?"i said to my dad,pointing at the hearse parked next door."oh thats nothing"he said,and proceeded to tell me about the oddball who owned it.my niece lives close by,and while walking past with her dog,the mutt barked at a cat...mr oddmans cat."if that dog comes near my cat ill kill it,gut it and batter your dad" he says to my niece(17 yr old and timid).
her dad,who is no tough guy but wont stand any nonsence promtly went to address the fellow who,upon hearing the approach of an angry parent,hid in his bedroom and sent his mum to the door to fend off the barrage of abuse.he is about 35-40 years old)
this was quite tame though compared to the time when mr oddman decided to shower in petrol."dont come near or ill set myself alight "he told the police.the police had allready got the firemen in to flush the drains of petrol,and they just asked the firemen to make sure the weird knobber didnt torch himself.so they put the hoses on him.my dad said it was the funniest thing he had seen this year.
hes got a fucking pony tail too.the twat.

if you apologise for length,you are teh ghey!
(, Fri 26 Aug 2005, 0:04, Reply)
My ex-cat (God rest his soul, little bugger)..
..had this ear infection; it was called "scollops" or something to that extent. Anyway, he had this affinity for shaking his head rapidly- spraying blood in a circular fashion across the walls, floors and ceiling. Not much fun, but we coped, and still loved him and all that shit.

An odd introduction, but there is a reason- and it does correlate with the neighbours t'ing. We had this old neighbour guy down the road called Ray, whose wife was in hospital and was generally alone. He seemed to have some sort of infactuation with the condition of ol' Frodo (this was before the films, thankyou very much), and would constantly tell us to "Sort that cat's ears out", and we'd constantly retort that it was not serious.

I can't be arsed telling the rest of the story in such great detail, so... he took it to the vet, it died. The end.

He has asked my sister "How's your pussy" with a straight face though.

My, that's a dull story.
(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 22:57, Reply)
Our last next door neighbours that we managed to drive out....
This really boring, twee Canadian man moved in on his own, all we knew about him was that he was a chocolate scientist or something. Then about a month later this little troll-like woman moves in with a big piano, she's Russian and she's his new wife. Me thinks he ordered her from one of THOSE websites. Anyway all day long she plays really loud Russian songs on the piano, sometimes singing. And then they had 2 babies who I felt so sorry for because the mother used to scream at them in Russian all the time and the dad was just a total wuss. Then we decided we'd had enough of them and my dad declared war on them, you know the typical glaring over over the garden fence and stuff. Then it got a bit shouty and they moved out... WIMPS! Come to think of it... maybe we're the scary neighbours!
(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 22:34, Reply)
oh god, it feels good to get this off my chest . . .
Living underneath me is a small, psychopathic dog. I like dogs, but this monster was never trained. It is the only canine I know of that actually does attack postmen. It is kept in a tiny area and never walked, and everyone entering the house is heralded with a flurry of barking and growling guaranteed to scare small children. At about 6 months old it bit my mum's finger, almost crushing the actual bone. I fucking hate it and so does everyone else - death threats are frequenly issued. It lives with an angry parrot and an angrier Welsh woman who, I can say without fear of exaggeration, is the personification of bitterness. Racist (in the 1950s 'the black people are coming to steal our jobs/it's the children i feel sorry for' style), ignorant, disapproving, irrational, tactless, prudish and bitter, she openly insults people (especially me, though I don't know why) while they can still hear her, smokes in her conservatory so it suffuses the building and uses a cleaning product that has been unfavourably compared with Agent Orange. She frequently causes plumbing disasters, usually because her pigheaded stupidity causes her to fiddle with valves and take out the water for the building. She then phones at odd times and calls people down to fix it all. She irrationally hates everyone, and has driven several people away through a combination of the tactics above. She once complained to me because I turned the knob for the lock inside the front door one turn too far, and claimed that it delayed her and made her more vulnerable to assault and street crime. For some reason, I actually paid attention instead of leaving her to the hooded gangs prowling the mean streets of West Kensington.
(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 22:32, Reply)
When I was about 12
our nextdoor neighbour, Jean, was an extremely big lady, with long greasy hair and a mole the size of an eyeball on her forehead.
Now, one day my mum goes over to hers for a cup of coffee, to find her opening the door in a flimsy green evening dress and a plastic tiara on her haid, claiming she's a princess. When they go in, mum sees that the floor is covered with broken glasses and beerbottles, the neighbours one year old doughter crawling about naked.

So, what to do?
Mum tries to make up an excuse to take the toddler with her, but Jean won't have any of that. She then decides to call an ambulance to get her psychiatric help. So she comes over to me, and tells me to stay home and not to open the door. When she goes out the door and gets on her bike (to ride to a phonebooth), Jean is already waiting for her. She figured out what my mum was up to and was not happy. As I looked out of the window, I could see my mum speeding away on her crappy bike, being chased by this big ugly lady in evening dress, with a plastic tiara on her head, hitting my mother with a broomstick. By the time my mum came back, Jean had barricaded her front door and had thrown all of her bedroom furniture through the upstairs window. She was holding her toddler out of the window -Michael Jackson stylee- threatening to let her fall down if anyone tried to enter her house. Oh how we laughed.
(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 22:19, Reply)
i live in a pretty rural area
and there's this guy who lives down the road from me... very disheveled house with assorted cars and gubbins on the lawn and such, and he's always outside, but the thing is that he blends in. back when i was an avid runner, i used to go past his house basically every day, and i could never see him until he said something to me.

one time i didn't see him at all, just heard him laughing from somewhere in the woods.

one time he yelled something like, "boy! ye should get some leggins on!"

more recently i was driving past his house at about midnight, and, for no reason, he yelled the word "CHIGGA!"
(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 22:14, Reply)
senile insanitary sailor
he is no longer my next-door neighbour, but he was for many years when i was younger.
mr fulford.

he was always very kind, but as the years went by he got more and more senile.
mostly it was harmless stuff, like playing his fandango music far too loud at inappropriate times.
he also hung up saucepans and seaweed on the front of his house. and a plaque, indicating that his house was now called "journey's end".

but it got really bad when his toilet broke.
now he didn't really have any family to care for him in his old age, and he was by this time far too crazy to be able to sort it out for himself. so the toilet stayed broken.
he took to pissing out of the first floor window on occasions.

my mum was one day woken at about 4 in the morning by a sloshing sound. she found it to be mr fulford tipping a bucket of piss into the drain on the road. this did seem more sensible than pissing out of the window.

but then he became a bit more unruly with it. tipping it all over the pavement (the weeds never grew outside our house...)
and then on at least one occasion he was seen sloshing a bucket of piss all over the front door of a neighbour across the road. we never told them.

he passed away peacefully not long after.
it's rather sad: i'm sure if he'd had people to care for him he'd have been alright.
as it was, he was really quite terrifying.
(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 21:57, Reply)
in my loverly neighborhood
In a flat adjacent to mine, there lives a tall, gaunt gentleman of indeterminate age (40-60ish.) On occasion, my roommate and I would hear high-pitched howling followed by a deep voice, and we'd look out the window and see only this man. Apparently, after an early afternoon-into-evening of drinking, he fancies a chat with himself in different voices. (I know it's early afternoon drinks, for I have seen him going into a dodgy bar up the road at about 1pm, regularly. They don't serve food at that bar, either.) My roommate and I would await his nightly rants, huddling under the window nearest his flat and giggling... until we heard him screaming about "all the dead women."

That's not all. I overheard him talking to a neighbor, saying that his arm was broken because he fell down the stairs in the local supermarket (where he works) because he was drunk on the job. Funnily enough, the local supermarket is a one-story building. No stairs.
(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 21:57, Reply)
Not scary so much as dangerously foolish rednecks.
My closest neighbors (quarter of a mile across a field) are some of the most dangerous rednecks even the Deep South would stay away from. Just a couple weeks ago I encountered them in the local hardware store buying PVC pipe and Butane. This did not bode well.
The next morning I was rudely awoken at the crack of noon by an ear-splitting bang, the classic Dukes of Hazzard "Hoo-yah!", and a terrible shriek (in that order).
I jumped out of my hammock, threw on some clothes, and ran out the door. The scene that met my eyes was one of wanton destruction. These chainsmoking hard-drinking redneck bastards had, using a monstrous potato cannon, shot an iron bar into my brick barbecue pit! Even though it took me awhile to get outside the brick dust still had not cleared; one dust-covered figure was lying on the ground nursing a serious pipe-inflicted groin wound (but there was no time to gloat now) and the other was standing next to the pit with an expression of horror. I shouted something along the lines of "What the dollar sign number sign, you fucking asterix percent ampersands!" at him. He said nothing. For the first time I looked at the brick structure closely. The chimney seemed about two feet shorter than usual. In fact as I walked closer it became apparent that what was once a beautiful (built by me, I might add, with about as much difficulty as in the Simpsons)barbecue pit was just a pile of rubble. I mean, it was absolutely destroyed. If it hadn't been mine, I would have been impressed. As it was, I was flaming mad.
This small incident soon escalated into an all-out cartoon-style war. The main weapon: spud guns. It was fairly run-of-the-mill in terms of damage, dents in houses, garage doors with holes through them, etc. but then a friend came over and we built the most fearsome weapon ever known to man or Silastic Armorfiend of Striterax: The Shopping Cart Tank. I won't go into detail, but imagine a howitzer and a machine gun mounted onto two welded-together monster shopping carts (trolleys), all powered by a 10hp go-kart motor, and you'll get the idea. We fired a few warning shots into their front door to inform them that the jig was up, and that they could stop trying to antagonize me. Strangely enough, considering I had just heard loud crashes, they weren't in. We motored 'round to the back at a good clip (25!) and found the rednecks finally destroyed. While testing their latest weapon of evil, they had shot two four-foot spears of 3" PVC pipe straight up in the air, with sharp knives strapped to the ends. The poor aerodynamics of these missiles resulted in one coming down at ridiculously high speed and smashing through the windshield of their prized truck and coming out the bottom. Apparently it just missed the transmission but they would need a new seat and windshield and were missing a chunk of dashboard. It was marvellous. We had to ask them where the other went, as it wasn't readily visible.
You wouldn't think that a mere knife attached to plastic would go through a roof. You would think that somebody would notify their daughter-- who had an attic room-- if they were testing something incredibly dangerous in the backyard. But these rednecks were not normal people.
The daughter of one had been peacefully sitting on her bed when a giant spear crashed its way into her room, in an eerily Donnie Darko-style shower of plaster, shingles, and wood. It came down about 6 feet from her.
You can imagine the rednecks weren't that bothered about this, but then a wife emerged. I've never heard such howling.
That day still brings tears to my eyes.
Later I went back and shot up all their potato cannons using the tank. Sometimes I wish I had more neighbors like that, at least so I had an excuse to destroy more things.

I'd apologize for length, but that would be giving in to the overwhelming peer pressure. Oh wait...
(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 21:53, Reply)
My landlord was a huge Canadian
who owned 2 records which he used to come home and play at unfesably loud volume, Slippery when Wet and the blues brothers soundtrack. I can still cope with the blues brothers, but slippery when wet drives me into spasms.

He was a member of the national champion Paintball team and used to like to be called MAD DOG!! every now and then he used to have the odd party, where there would be the two of us who lived in his house and who were of a rather hippyish persuasion, and him and all his mates who used to turn up dressed in camoflage gear as they all had a real desire to be squaddies, but wouldn't do it for real.

at one of his parties he built a bonfire in the back garden, the monster was constructed from offcuts of roof joists from the firm next to where he worked. The bonfire was about 5 feet tall and 6 feet across, and looked like a Myan pyramid. We all should have realised that something was about to get strange when he suggested that we should 'light the fuse' on his bonfire. all of the hippies took a few steps back at this, the paintballers stepped forwards, when the the fuse burned down, the kilo and a half of fertilizer and sugar he'd put in the centre of the fire caught! from the sides of the fire four foot long and six inch wide columns of flame shot out at a 45 degree angle giving off the sound of a jet engine, he'd considered packing it all down so it would be more impressive, but hadn't thus saving the lives of all the people standing round as it hadn't gone off like a bomb!

at another party he decided the barbercue wasn't hot enough so poured the same mixture on to get it going properly, over all the burgers, so we had to throw them all away.
(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 21:24, Reply)
Des.... Oh God, Des.
Brighton is a city blessed with those who have seen the cold, electric-blue light of madness. None more so than my old next door neighbour Des.

Aside from the typical dysfunctional family screamings at all hours, we had the pleasure of:

- A swaying, bemused and bloody headed Des hammering on our back door at 11 o/clock at night. Having tried, and messily failed, to scale an eight foot wall seperating our gardens. He was saying something subtle and heartwarming as we pushed him kindly yet firmly back over to his own pad. I think it was 'she's a fucking bitch'.

- Des's entire family busting down our front door about 2 hours later accusing us of 'stealing his wallet'. Their 12 year old daugher ended up persuading them that this was probably not the case. Des tried to make it up to us by coming over again and offering us a blood sodden and badly rolled joint. Erm, no thanks......

- Awaking to see Des pummeling seven, maybe more, shades of crap out of his wife on the back lawn. The police were duly called.

Around the time his wife disappeared forever, Des built a tree house (IE, randomly hammered a load of MDF to the wall). We dread to think what he used it for.....
(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 21:20, Reply)
Queue the epic music...
My neightbour has (dramatic pause) a shaved head, except for a pony tail...

(, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 21:18, Reply)

This question is now closed.

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