Love Thy Neighbour...

...or stab her through the eye with a rusty pitchfork, scoop out the gloop, feed it to the cat, and then stick a five foot metal pole up her arse, and make her spin. No, actually, scrap that last one; she'd probably enjoy it too much...

All my life, I've only ever known lovely, decent neighbours, so I guess by the Law of Averages, I was due some crappy ones, but by Christ! I must have been an evil cow in a former life to deserve this lot next door.

They moved in just over two years ago, and within a month, I had to call the police, because the eighteen year-old son had been beaten-up, and chased out of the house by his mum's new boyfriend. It was two o'clock in the morning: the kid was bruised, dripping blood, and on my doorstep. The boyfriend was drunk, wielding a kitchen knife and coming up my path. Gulp.

Things just degenerated from there, really; I'm treated to arguments, swearing, loud music and doors slamming. It normally kicks-off at around 11pm, just as I'm snuggling into the duvet (or, more recently, slumping at the laptop, trying to finish the current writing assignment...) and can end anywhere between two and five o'clock in the morning.

It's not exactly warm sands and the gentle lapping of the Caribbean sea in the background, now is it?

I've asked, I've pleaded, I've shouted, I've sworn. I've thumped on the walls, made complaints and screamed abusive phrases. I've been sending 'incident diaries' to our housing association for TWO years, they send next door a slapped-wrist letter, next door behaves for a week, I sleep in twenty-three hour bursts, and it all kicks-off again.

Last night was dire: the most horrendous yet - I quake in my fluffy bunny slippers just thinking about it. From eleven until half past two, they blasted my leaf-green walls with...with...Girls Aloud! There! I've said it. Can you imagine the pain it caused? The anguish? The trauma?

My body adopted the foetal position - thumb in mouth, quilt over head, limbs a-tremble - and quietly slipped into my subconcious...

Actually, that was even more traumatic.