Not sure who was worse..
.. us or her. We would play loud music at ungodly hours and due to large a intake of devil's dandruff couldn't possibly have cared less about anyone else.
She, on the other hand, was a alchy psycho. One day she would come round with cake the next day she'd barge in, call everyone "cunts" and try to flash her bits.
She had a fella, who turned up at the door looking for psycho, sporting a gaping wound in his neck which was bleeding "I need to find psycho - we've had a row and I need to tell her that I love her." We suggested he went back to hospital before he bled to death.
Another day she turned up and said "I think there's something wrong with psycho lover..." My boyfriend went round with a stethascope that had conveniently recently been nicked from flat owners GP and discovered the nature of the problem. 40 years of hard drinking had taken its toll on psycho lover's liver and he was dead.
Something wrong with him indeed.
We kept the music down after that, but unfortunately, her love for playing Elvis at 7am and singing along like a wailing banshee on her balcony did not.
(smack rabbit, Fri 26 Aug 2005, 13:55, Reply)