Remember the neighbours who were keeping me up with all kinds of nonsense, late into the night?
Today I was walking with the Pudding, about ten minutes from home. We were crossing the street when a couple next to us started shouting at each other. I called it early – I could tell from the slurred, gravelly speech and choice vocabulary - they were the neighbours from hell!!
The Pudding was sceptical, but we followed them all the way home. The woman shouted garbled obscenities while the man followed her, scuffing his feet about five paces behind. She was wrapped up against the cold in a glorified bin bag and underneath his baseball cap I could see a Mohawk gone wrong. His face was red, but he walked with the steady gait of one who was used to handling alcohol.
Yes, it was Them.
Like secret agents, we hid behind the bin shed until they had disappeared inside. Two minutes later we were in our flat and, seconds after that, what started blasting out but sixties classics, starting with ‘Build me up Buttercup’ (not Beyonce, thank goodness!). They both started singing heartily. It was their makeup song. At least one couple are getting laid despite the racket.
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