Today, it appears I may have accidentally got my neighbours evicted. But it really wasn't my fault, but I kind of feel happy, but also a hard hearted cow. I am all for being smug after getting people into trouble, but homelessness? Yeah, that plays a little on the conscience.
Ok, so the story is a long one, so grab a cuppa and put your feet up, or alternatively, if you don't like your coffee with cold skin on the top, them skip this, cos the tale is complicated and I am prone to rambling, which is probably something I don't have to tell you. I might also be doing that just a little right now.
Firstly, these pointers are important within the story, they are as thus...
1. I share a long entrance hall with the flat next door.
2. The entrance way is carpeted
3. The entrance way legally belongs to the flat next door, I only have right of way.
4. The neighbours have a joined IQ of 5. Ok, that's mean, lets say 7.
5. The neighbours have a six week old baby.
4. Although this is not a photo of the tenants, all you have to do is change the hair colour and add baseball caps, cos they really do, no shit, resemble these people...
So, a year ago, a lady in her late 30's moved in, let's call her Mildred. Mildred had just separated from her husband. On first meeting Mildred, I quickly realised that she wasn't the brightest button in the tin, but pleasant non the less. She informed me that she had two children, who she had been refused custody of, but whom would be staying at weekends. All was good.
A month later a man also moved in (let's call him George), with a big arsed, hair shedding dog in tow, (a dog that howls the whole fucking time they are out). This was when the ridiculous base enhanced rap music started, the kind that drowned out my TV and turned my coffee into frothy cappucino. George must be near on 40 and at first I found it pretty amusing that the music would only start up just as Mildred was going out the front door and then stop abruptly as her car drew up outside on her return, like the actions of some rebelling hormone ravished teenager. Yeah, well, the amusement soon wore off. But I, being a tolerant person, (and don't you ever think otherwise), let it go, as he had always been very polite and chatty and I pretty much liked them both as neighbours go.
Then there was, and still is, the matter of the hall carpet. I have a cleaner, because I am a lazy arse, who I pay to hoover the hall weekly, even though that area isn't my responsibility. George and Mildred however, don't even posses a hoover, but DO posses a big hairy dog that sheds like a mother fucker and likes walkies over the fields twice a day. I get to see the actual colour of the carpet for a couple of hours every Tuesday and then, well, it mysteriously turns into shag, muddy wet dog smelling shag. Super.
Also, about 9 months ago, the 3 inset lights at the end of the hall stopped working. These would be the lights that enable me to find the keyhole in which to insert my key, when returning of an evening, (sometimes early morning) of entertainment. Oh yes and the they also enable me to see where I am going without falling and cracking my pelvis in two. Dad changed the bulbs, but still no light, it was determined that the electrics must be buggered, and I asked George and Mildred if they would please let their landlord know so that he could arrange to get it fixed. They never let him know, it never got fixed, for they are as thick as shit and the landlord's number is probably 897989, which poses a problem when you can only count up to 6. (Yes that was mean, but I won't take it back because my god, they have earned it).
I am now getting to the core of the story, no really, I am. I AM! SHUTUP!
On Saturday morning, whilst getting into my car, George shouted something to me from the window. I didn't hear what he said, but he sounded mad, but before I could say pardon, he had gone. He then proceeded to what seemed like, purposely slam the doors all day and I had no idea why. Well all was soon to be revealed.
Last week, unbeknownst to me, my mother rang next doors landlord to request he get the lighting fixed in the hall. (This guy is the nicest man ever, he has been nothing but helpful and obliging to my situation since he bought the property). During the conversation, the landlord asked if the tenant was ok. Now all it took for world war III to break out, was this simple innocent answer....
Well generally they are fine, apart from one little niggle, they have never hoovered the hall carpet, it would just be nice if they shared the responsibility, especially considering their dog and the pram is in and out a lot.
Apparently there was silence on the other end of the phone for a good 10 seconds, before he exploded into an incoherent rant, that included the words.. They?.... Contract for only one! Dog?.... No pets allowed! Baby?.... What baby?!
So you see, it was an accident, I had no idea Mildred was meant to be alone, who am I, Uri fucking Geller!
Fast forward to this morning. I'm on my way out, when Mildred catches me and asks for a word. She is non too happy obviously and informs me that she has had a phone call from her landlord giving her shit and that he said my parents had rung and complained about "my friend that has been staying", (staying my arse!) and "the dog that she is looking after whilst her friend is on holiday" (for a fucking year!) and that next time, can I go directly to her with my complaints. I am, of course, taken aback as I had no idea my parents had contacted him and promise to talk to them, which I do and then knock on her door and inform her that no, they did not complain about the dog OR the so called friend that is staying, they only rang to ask him to fix the lights and mentioned the hallway carpet and that the words dog and they were mentioned, which was enough to let their cat out of the bag.
Mildred then invited me in to speak with her and George. Part of me wondered if I would come out alive. We talked, we discussed the misunderstanding and how unfortunate it was, we shared a ciggy and I petted the dog, they forgave me and obviously warmed to me. And then......... they started telling me things that they really shouldn't be telling someone who had contact with their landlord and had just landed them in trouble. These things included the words ... drugs and where can I get some? Baby drug withdrawal syndrome problems and Landlord is visiting to talk next week so George and dog will be going to stay with friends to as to further deceive him...... See? Thick as shit on top of shit.
I left in disbelief and an hour later received a call from my parents, which was when they told me the landlord had rung them again telling them that Mildred had promised him the friend and dog did not actually live there, to which my father replied something along the lines of, "total bollocks", to which the landlord replied something along the lines of, "me no like liars, eviction or maybe you spy to see if man and dog return and let me know in a month and I take to court for deception".
So yeah, it seems they are in for a shock, especially as Mildred had said "It'll be fine, I'll put the landlord straight I feel better now". Oops. They are going to hate me. H.A.T.E M.E.
And that is the end of the story, thank you for staying with the uncontrollable rambling. Hello? Hello?
