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Hurray! I'm back on broadband

Finally, we have broadband access again - no thanks to Tiscali, which never did get its act together and reconnect us since their huge technical boo-boo, despite almost daily assurances that our service would be back up in five working days. Yeah, and the cheque's in the post...

Right now, I'm curled up with the laptop, our squeaky new ntl broadband, and CSI on the telly. Alpha has gone out to a party and the kids are fast asleep. I would be in total bliss if I hadn't finished all the ice-cream in the freezer earlier in the week and if it wasn't for the fact that people keep buzzing our flat looking for the brothel/crack den that has recently opened for business in our building.

Fortunately the offending entrepreneurs are three floors above us but unfortunately our flat is next to the fire exit which the pimp has taken to leaving open to ensure easy access for his customers after midnight (before which time Alpha and I keep closing it). Strange men roving around our building is not something I take kindly to, especially when they're prone to flicking their ash onto the hallway carpet and abandoning cans of extra-strength lager along the stairwell.

And then there's the axe I have to grind with whoever it was who threw a half-chewed Subway out of their window into our garden last week, not to mention their mistaken impression that our patio is one big ashtray. I'm tempted to mount a stakeout to see where all this crap is coming from and then they'd better run and hide... but until then I'm resigned to glaring up at all the windows looking out onto our garden just in case the guilty grubby bastards happen to be looking out.

The final straw was when I tried to leave the house on Friday morning and couldn't open the internal fire door because there was a tramp bedded down on the other side of it. Apparently he saw the door open and figured a night indoors on a nice soft carpet was a much better deal than paving slabs and the rain. I don't blame him, but it also pisses me off that anyone can come into our building just because the pimp and his ho can't be bothered to work their intercom. They ar ebeing evicted but apparently it's going to take months.

Enough already. I'm getting wound up just thinking about it. I'm off to bed to dream of vengeance against all those punks who think it's fine to dump litter near my door and flick butts and fast food into my clematis.


mad muthas said…
hmmm - time for some guerilla tactics? how about a mega water pistol? lurk in the dark with yer night vision goggles on (you do have some, i trust?), then let em have it with both barrels - icy water, natch! that's what the lady next door does to my cats, and you should see them scarper!
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spender said…
find out who's flicking their ash in the garden and put superglue in their front door lock while they're inside.

Also, IMHO, high strength lager and prostitution don't necessarily operate well together. It must be a crack den. Pop upstairs, introduce yourself as a neighbour and ask if you can borrow "a couple of white and one brown" because you've run out. That will confirm it. And dont worry about sleeping tramps - next time it could be George Michael...

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