I'm back again O my brothers.
Slumped on the sofa, my head aching, I felt I had to turn to my Real pals. Especially as my new Polish ones next door dont' seem to be in. Pieter and Paul and someone or other. Probably out knocking back vodka. Wouldn't offer me any of course. Just out for themselves, aren't they! Someone told me once never to trust a Pole - or was it a pilot? Can't remember now.
What a frackin' day, readers. I;m amazed I heard God's calling with all the bloody row going on here. Today, the stink in this God-forsaken-hole really got to me. It seemed to come from the walls. My mate's husband suspects cadavars are buried there and someone similar to Fred West or Christie could have lived here. (who was that one in Muswell Hill?)
I knocked next door (not the Polish side) and there was no-one there. I seriously suspected foul-play. I looked through the letter box. I dialled 999 and told the nice bloke there about the smell and my suspicions that someone could have died. They sent round a Police car and Paramedic immediately. And this poor cow had to jump over my fence to get in the house.
Anyway, a nice bloke called round, saying he lived next door but one, and he had a key to next door and "John" just worked odd hours and wasn't there a lot. Wanted the frackin floor to open up and swallow me! Why in Gods name, did I not just knock at his door? Lovely bloke tho'. Sweet. What a good frackin' start this is!
And then "John" himself knocked. Was really sweet about it all. After all, he had almost been accused of serial killings. Luckily we both have a cat so this smoothed things over.
And then we lost Son's bloody i-pod! Got ultra-depressed. Ask Polish painters next door if they'd seen it when they'd been painting upstairs. Knew they would never dare nick the thing, not when they're building up a painting business. Found it in the soft toys.
Mate bought round a candle - purple one - lit it up. It drowns out the stink - just.
Bloody hell! late for my fag!