Not my neighbours any more
but when I was a kid the bloke next door kept an evil, evil goat. For reasons best known to himself he also had massive amounts of rusty metal piled everywhere in his back yard, which the goat would climb up and get onto our garage roof - from which it could lean out and eat chunks of my mum's favourite tree.

To stop this, my mum had trained me to shoot it with the garden hose whenever it was on top of the garage - which I obviously enjoyed doing and the goat hated me for it.

Both our houses backed onto a field, which as a kid I used to play in all the time. One day though the goat managed to get out of the yard as well, and as I was doing whatever I was doing in the field, I caught a glimpse of it charging at me out the corner of my eye.

I jumped up and sprinted for the fence to our garden, but the goat was always going to win and butted me from behind face down into an enormous patch of stinging nettles - then as I screamed and thrashed around with stings all over my face it proceeded to stamp on me, butt me and bite me until I managed to drag myself bleeding and covered in hundreds of nettle stings through the field and back over the fence to our garden.

I was terrified of that goat bastard and by extension it's scumbag owner so it counts for me.
( Button Man ...a right bottom feeder., Mon 29 Aug 2005, 22:27, Reply)