»9th July 2018

Old House

Seriously, why do I even bother with drop caps?



The neighbours have improved since I moved in. To begin with, there was a Slovakian prostitute in the house beneath; Angry Wayne lived next door to the prostitute; next door to us was where the drug dealers grew all their weed.

Angry Wayne

Angry Wayne lived underneath the house next door (it was so tiresome having to explain what I mean by 'underneath' every time I talked about the neighbours.

Wayne had some kind of mental health problem, more likely several. I guess that we didn't really hear much from him when he was on his meds. When he was on his meds...

The Slovakian Prostitute lived next door to Wayne. Yes, the Slovakian Prostitute was a whole other thing. Anyway, Wayne didn't seem to like the Slovakians much, one quiet afternoon he was wandering about on the pavement outside his house posing and gesticulating in the direction of the Slovakians--in his underwear, of course, in the rain. 'I'd shag you, but I wouldn't pay for it again!' he shouted. This didn't get a good reaction from the Slovakians and soon three or four guys in really-scruffy-looking Kappa tracksuits and tank-tops were assembling outside Wayne's door.


Lee, the weird pervert who lived next door to us, and above Angry Wayne, liked to torment Wayne. The houses below us looked out into the steep cutting where the road went under the railway bridge. A fine example of Victorian engineering. The backs of these houses went into the steep hillside under our house, so their back bedroom windows looked out underneath our kitchens. When we had viewings at the house we had to explain that no, that wasn't a cellar underneath our kitchen--it was another house.

So Wayne's Sky dish had to be mounted to Lee's house since there was no hope of him getting a signal otherwise. Lee decided one day to cut the wire connecting the Sky dish, with a predictably level-headed response from Wayne. Marching up the street and standing outside our house to then start yelling 'MY NAME'S WAYNE!' 'I KNOW YOU'VE DONE IT, YOU BALDY BASTARD!' At the time, I was at band practise and so Shirley-Ann was in the house on her own, she'd just moved in. Naturally, she was pretty scared when this unstable guy known as 'Angry Wayne' was stood outside her front door, angrily yelling about someone having messed with his Sky signal. Of course, whilst Wayne was doing this, he had his laptop in his hand and was typing things and holding it up in the air--to get WiFi signal?

Wayne was pretty easy to take advantage of. One time Wayne was having himself a little party, with three or four people round. Like teenagers. As in fourteen and fifteen-year-olds. 'Well he's a bit mad but he'll buy you beer,' as they came walking up the street holding Tesco bags. This rocking party--Wayne had a Wii--had pretty much died down by about half-nine ten o' clock when the teenagers had wandered off to loiter in a supermarket car park or something. Wayne was sat on his front step quietly drinking a beer. This wouldn't stand for Lee, who started yelling things at him from his living room window 'YOU PENIS!'--was he not calling him a dick because his girlfriend's kids would have heard him upstairs or something? This naturally got an Angry Reaction from Angry Wayne, who remember was the one being provoked hear. Lee escalated things some more by pouring a bucket of water onto him. Yeah, taking the high road. It was ten o' clock, it's not as if this party was still going at 2AM and people were in bed.


One morning, when it actually was 2AM and people were in bed, we were once again visited by the National Rail Teletubbies. Who would periodically have to service the railway that ran across the cutting from our house. The railway was so loud, you could never have the bedroom window open in Summer because every single train that went past during the night would wake you up. The most common disturbance we'd get when they were doing repairs was when they sent a big yellow engine slowly down the track, at about walking pace. I'm guessing it polished the tracks or something. This particular morning was one of the times when they had to actually replace some parts of the track. This was a noisy job: circular saws cutting through steel track, clanking as the new piece of rail is craned into position and then the thermite welding. It was actually pretty cool to watch, but sometimes you just want to sleep. My usual tactic was to complain on Twitter to National Rail, they'd always tweet back with an estimate of how long the work would take. Lee's tactic was to yell obscenities at the workmen from across the road. I imagine Lee was disappointed when yelling 'Come on, you're fucking taking the piss, it's 2AM,' didn't get them to just pack up their things and come back another day.

At some point, Wayne got the Internet back, and he got himself on Facebook. He obviously wasn't going to concern himself with the privacy settings, and setting his profile to private. Shirley-Ann worked out that when you could hear Angry Wayne kicking off, you could go to his Facebook page and he'd usually have posted about what was winding him up this time. Other times he would post on Facebook live, during his personal alone time. Yeah, so he was wanking on Facebook live, on a completely public profile. This was when he worked nights, so he'd be posting this in the middle of the day.

Extar, over, out.


TCP/IP, it's fucking me off. Other protocols doing little more. Definitely got worse. Now making me curse. Removing IPX. Will it ever work? Never!