You lot might as well shut up now.
Across the road from me is a dodgy decrepit pub full of old Irishmen drinking their pensions from dawn till dusk, who by and large are a nice bunch, and fat shaven east end thugs, who aren't.

My next-door neighbours are a seedy lapdancing club, initial attraction of seeing the very beautiful dancers arriving and leaving more than outweighed by gangs of pissed up City suits out for a night on the tits and puking up, falling asleep, or both, in our doorway.

Next door to that is a heroin addicts needle exchange.This backs on to our car park, so naturally many people's bicycles, cars, scooters and motorbikes are stolen by the 'clients'.

Next door to that is a "wet house" which is a hostel for those sclerotic old alcoholics who "cannot or will not stop drinking" - so basically winos are being rewarded for living a self-destructive life entirely without responsibility or consideration with spacious central-London accommodation (a mere £20 a month is taken for this), free hot meals and a garden to play loud 70s music and have noisy fights in, free dental and medical care, sickness benefit, pensions and housing benefit, all of which they can keep and may spend on booze. So they do. Queueing up at 7:30 at the corner shop to stock up on their breakfast Ace cider, and carrying on all day. Apparently this is somehow preferable to letting them suffer the consequences of their life choices and die in the street or on a park bench, but I can't see how.

Oh, and the wholesaler that supplies the shops with all this nasty cheap booze is going to build a dirty great warehouse and lorry park opposite the flat. Thanks, council. What the fuck am I paying £1200 a year for again? I forget.

Welcome to fucking London. The rest of you don't know when you're well off.
(Lambkin, Fri 26 Aug 2005, 11:35, Reply)