Dear Next Door.


Whilst I think it’s all very good that you insist on popping out babies like they were in fact coming out of a box of Fruit Gums at the cinema, I don’t enjoy the fact that you let them spend ALL FUCKING DAY jumping on that fucking trampoline and shouting like a bunch of ADHD riddled speed-addicts almost right outside my bedroom window. The government is giving you all that child benefit money so you look after them, not so you can buy yourself a bigger T.V. and hope that they raise themselves. They won’t. But, maybe we will luck out and soon enough they will get taken away by the authorities and you will never see them again and I will never have to hear them again.

I must admit though, a few weeks ago I heard you trying your hand at ‘parenting’ by giving one of them a lecture on how they shouldn’t be teaching the other kids who you let come over to your house and jump on that fucking trampoline all day how to swear. This is a good start to a new life of bliss and relaxation for us all. A bit of constructive criticism though; Don’t start your lecture on how its wrong to teach the other children to swear with the sentence ‘What the fuck do you think your doing?’. What the fuck do you think YOUR doing? Of course they’re going to swear at each other when that’s all they hear all day long coming from your mouth. I might swear alot, but I’m not raising a family of about fifteen-hundred little cunts. If you yourselves insist on joining in on the shouting at least try and make it worth-while and not just another way to vent your rage from the fact that you can’t hit your wife, which, to be quite honest, I wish you would sometimes so that then your weekly ‘Sunday shout-off’ in your kitchen might end that little bit sooner and I can get on  with watching ‘Come Dine With Me’ in my conservatory in peace. Sort it out. Your making this shit hole of a town that little bit shittier for me.

Best wishes,

Miles

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