Monday, February 06, 2006

Neighbours; a case for extermination.

I don't live in the closest neighbourhood. In fact, I've only met four of our neighbours in several years. One appeared on our doorstep to ask if he could purchase a couch - at 6am on a Sunday morning. When we said no, he wouldn't go away. He insisted on looking at our couches. We insisted he fuck off. That was the last time we participated in a neighbourhood garage sale.

The rest of our neighbour-meeting occurances have been relatively pleasant. Nod-at-each-other-in-the-street acquaintances have been made, forged on the unification to get our street surfacing fixed (it looks something like this), and the unforgettable impaling of a dog on a fence. But now we have a new need to unite - we have foes in our midst. At number 28, to be precise.

Now I'm all for party houses - I think it's better to keep drug & alcohol induced destruction and annihalation to a confined area, like a house, if at all possible, instead of drunken mishaps on the streets. I think this is particulary relevant to the annoying bastards at 28, if for no other reason than their own personal safety. If they attended bars, they'd regularly have the living crap beaten out of their annoying, sports-liking, whiny-girlfriend equipped, yobbish, country-boy bodies. So why is the party house a bad idea in this case? Because we live in a quiet, yet densley packed inner city suburb. And we like to sleep. At night. Most nights. Number 28 is preventing us from these mere luxuries of life.

Dubious? Here's a shortlist of their crimes against civilisation (me) thus far:
  • They stole my motorbike, and hid it in their shed.
  • They party at least 4 nights of every week - and I use the word 'night' loosely. I suspect it's actually one giant party that just doesn't end for 96 hours.
  • They have fucking noisy girlfriends that I'm more than happy to call slappers. They fight and bitch and moan, loudly and often in the middle of the street at any hour they damned well please.
  • They're not offering me any of their clearly very interesting drugs that seem to allow them to party this fucking hard for what's now coming up to a year.
  • They steal our recycling bins. For what purpose, we'll never know.
  • And just to reiterate my first point... They stole my motorbike and hid it in their shed.
When they first moved in, we attempted some early and ill-thought out plans of revenge. We would wait until their 'music' stopped (it's all fucking bass line dance music), and redirected our stereos speakers towards their house, and got the Merle Haggard out.

It didn't work. I think it actually encouraged them. So after months and months of pain, I've resorted to Plan Ultimo. The Plan to end all Parties.



I got me a megaphone, and I'm not afraid to use it.

Not only can I shout abuse, instruction & taunts at an alarming volume, I can also use the handy dandy siren that this baby is equipped with. I've noticed that number 28 becomes very quiet when they hear an emergency vehicle siren, or see a cop car pull up, and I suspect it's due to the earlier referenced hoard of drugs contained within the property & its persons. Never again will we have to lay awake at night listening to the thumping bass of whatever shit music they're listening to at 3am, accompanied by the screams and squeals of their annoying guests; for we have the megaphone! (I named it Monty). If we're particularly clever in its usage, we might even be able to get them to destroy their stereo (many plans have been hatched to break in and steal it, but they seem to have around 100 people living there at any given time).

"Attention morons! This is the police! We have a warrant to search your premises. We first ask that you unplug your stereo and throw it out the window. We fear it is a terrorist device. Do this now, or we send in the sniffer dogs."

If you think this plan relies on said partiers to be off their faces, then you'd be right. But I really don't think that's a problem.

As an added side-note, I think it's worth noting a few of the bonus uses of the megaphone include;
  • A driving aid. Car blocking you off or just being an asshole? Randomly wandering pedestrian? Notify them with Monty!
  • Don't like queues when shopping? This is where Monty comes in handy yet again! Announce super specials at will to clear the long line to the register.
  • Amuse yourself by hanging out at the river watching rowboats in training go past. Fuck up their rythym by yelling ROW! ROW! ROW! out of sync with their rowmaster.
  • In a busy restaurant and can't get the wait-staffs attention? Monty won't fail here! Simply announce your order into the speaker, and you're sure to get the attention of every staff member in the place. *Note; this won't work at McDonalds.
  • Go to a nightclub and turn the siren on a little after midnight. Whatever's been taken should be kicking in by then and will cause hilarious results.
Actually, don't do the last one, it's just a bit too mean.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Fantastic, M. If only Monty were available when I was living next to those fuckers at 113 Falconer Street North Fitzroy.

Esmerelda Smith said...

Go down, join the party and start stealing their shit and selling it!!