The next door bloody neighbours (left hand side, shitty gonks; the right hand side ones are mostly nice) have been having a BBQ/Party/Squealy Piss-up since lunchtime and it's doing my nut in, so I thought I'd get rid of my frustrations by typing this. I am pressing the keys on the keyboard very hard so if I accidentally DRIFT INTO CAPITAL LETTERS, see this as me getting exceptionally mad.
Of course, we have absolutely no chance of being able to complain about the shit music, BBQ smoke, fag ash and stray children that seem to be invading our personal space because they did that irritatingly British thing of popping round yesterday to warn us in advance and to 'invite us' if we fancied going. Notice the quote marks around 'invite us', meaning that their invitiation was one of those - "you're perfectly welcome to come round and chat to a bunch of random strangers about bin-man things, as long as you don't complain about the shitty parking, or anything else that annoys you. Oh, and you're not really welcome, because we've not said more than two words to you since you moved in three years ago." - type of agreements.
So, anyway, I'm trapped in my house because if I step out the back I get a face full of smoke, and if I step out the front one of their little stray children things will kick a football into my head. And even if I do get outside I can't drive the bloody car anywhere because their binman friends have filled the cul-de-sac up with their many Vauxhall Vectras. Why do they all have Vauxhall Vectras? God knows. Maybe they had a dumb looking wide person discount that week.
Oh good god the music's making me feel old too, they're playing what seems to be the same Euro-dance tune on a loop (you know the one that has very badly translated lyrics, a looped violin track and a bassline that makes your eyebrows bleed) with the occasional 'song-from-last-year-that-was-overplayed', for example that bloody stupid Kid Rock cut and paste song that as a kid brought up by Lynrd Skynrd obsessed parents I must resort to stabbing people every time I hear it. Rarrrr I've gone a bit stir crazy.
Ahhh... good. It's just started raining. My mood is improving now.
DAmn, I've run out of rant now.
Ooh look they're all running to their cars now trying to protect their hair from getting wet using paper plates. Hehehehe.
Anyway, I think that's enough therapy for today, cheaper than a stress ball and less messy that a good sex session. That was my blog.
See you later.
Don't invite me to your BBQ.
PS. I got sent 13 packets of supernoodles this week by @annieredheadx off of that twitter. Go and follow her. Now. I do like supernoodles.
PPS. Australian Come Dine With Me is shite. Don't watch it.