Sunday, 20 December 2009

Neighbourhood watch

I’m terrified.
You see, it’s my neighbour. He’s - oh God, it’s so hard to discuss this - but what else can I do? He’s a good neighbour: quiet, doesn’t litter or have noisy parties or pets. He always stops to say ‘Hello’ and pass the time of day whenever we meet. He keeps himself to himself and there’s never any trouble. And you know what that means. You only learn about people like that when you see a news report with a forensic tent somewhere and grim-faced policemen in overalls carrying shovels and pick-axes into someone’s garden. Another neighbour of mine knows him at their office. Apparently he’s a model worker too: hard working, diligent, punctual and polite to his colleagues.
Are his bosses mad? Don’t they ever read the Daily Mail? Don’t they realize that sometime very soon their Employee of the Year’s photo is going to feature in a side panel of their TV screen also showing flames and smoke billowing out of a house or army barracks or music shop, with those aluminium trolleys ferrying bagged bodies into ambulances? I can’t sleep for worrying about the monster in our midst. It’s been five nights and days without rest now and I have to say the absinthe isn’t keeping me as alert as it used to; not even now I’ve upped the dose to two bottles a day. My hand tremors have ruined the quality of my recent sniper-scope infra red pictures of him moving about inside his ordinary-seeming suburban house. I can’t stand it any more. I know the authorities won’t act until it’s far too late. I shall act as a good citizen and avert this tragedy before the horror has a chance to begin. In these days of social disorder, moral decline, family breakdown, terrorism, mounting paranoia and impotence amongst other middle aged men and cheap supermarket booze, it’s the only decent thing to do. But I know my duty. I shall have to wait until this foul creature is asleep, and visit him in his lair. Britain will be a better place for my heroism. I’m sure you understand. I just wish you’d all stop whispering in my ear for one single moment.


Jade said...

I for one applaud your actions, and more power to your elbow.

We know such people are no longer welcome in this country, any more than anyone who thinks more than a week in advance. Thankfully our government has seen the light and will tax them out of existence.

North Northwester said...

Taxation's too good for them, and yoo know it. Speak broken English to them; it's the only language they understand.

"...more power to your elbow."
Hmm, you've only been blogging for five minutes and already you're getting with the cleverly funny stuff. Nobody likes a smart-arse, Jade: especially not another smart-arse.

PS, are you OK if Mrs. Northwester pops by your place on Tuesday evening to help with the unpacking?

Jade said...

Yep, we talked in email, we're all good


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