Tag Archives: Essex

My Top 10 Bad Neighbour Stories

Bad Neighbour Stories

Bad neighbours can make life hell, especially if you just want to be left alone and mind your own business.  Some people seem incapable of not bothering their neighbours though and I’ve had quite a few over of this sort over the years, perhaps in part because I used to live in the crappy parts of suburbs because the rent would be cheaper.

“Please Karen, I’m sorry I used my mower on my own lawn, don’t have me arrested again!”

So here are Big Angry Trev’s Top 10 Encounters with Bad Neighbours:

 

*Bad Neighbour #1: Parking-Spot Parionia Karen

Reservoir Victoria, Australia, 1996.

Was living in a block of 5 units in Reservoir.  We were probably the bad neighbours to most other residents because it was during my Uni days and used to throw lots of parties.  The cops would usually show up and ask us to keep the noise down.  We would apologise and immediately do so, but it must have irked the neighbours that this would happen about 8 times a year.

One morning I’m in the shower.  My girlfriend who had stayed the night came in to tell me the lady in Unit 5 (we were in 3) had just come to the door and told me to stop the harassment or she would call the police.  I had never even said hello to this woman so had no idea what she was on about.

Went and knocked on the ladies door to find out what it was all about.  She accused me of parking my car out the front of her place and revving the engine a lot (never happened) to harass her.  She then went on about how I shouldn’t judge her just because she’s a single mother (I would have been 19, she looked early 20’s), making it sound like I had already decided she must be a slut or something.

I informed her that I had never revved my car in front of her unit, the most I had ever done was pull up in front so I then reverse in to my allotted spot.  Told her that I had never judged her because I knew absolutely nothing about her and that for all I knew she lived with four big guys that would beat me up for even looking at her sideways.

My mother came to visit me a few months later.  She asked where she could park and I told her the end spot because no cars ever parked there.  My mother did so and within minutes this mad woman was at my door demanding we move the car.  As I went to do so the irritation on my face must have been evident as when I passed her she stared to Karen-like blather on about her rights.  I snapped at her ‘why don’t you just move then?’  and then continued to shift my mother’s vehicle.  She left us alone after that but we never dared use her parking spot again, which remained completely vacant until we moved ourselves a few years later.

 

*Bad Neighbour #2: Toothless Nutcase fakes visit by Prostitute

Reservoir Victoria, Australia, 2000

Second place in Reservoir and had moved in with my now-fiancé.  Two units this time, with ours being the one closest to the street.  The unit at the back had a husband, wife and wife’s father living in it.  Had never spoken to either of the men and to her only a couple of times.  She was missing most of her teeth, wore these awful singlets all the time that barely covered her unfortunate physique, and would be constantly hosing down their half of the driveway.  Like, constantly – maybe for a couple of hours each day!

I went away for a weekend to visit friends out of town and that evening my fiancé rings me up screaming.  Apparently the neighbour woman had come over and given her some story about a blond in an SUV showing up and when I wasn’t home had knocked on her door.  This supposed blond was asking where I was and then had left a magazine with the neighbour to pass onto me.  The magazine was like the Prostitute Quarterly for Melbourne or something – all articles about the sex trade in Melbourne and lots of ads for brothels.  One of these brothel ads had all these different messages to me written around it, things like ‘We love your Goatee’, ‘Come back soon Trevor!’ etc, making it seem like I was a prolific and favoured customer.

Took ages to calm my fiancé down over the phone to get her to look at the facts:

A:  If I actually had visited a brothel (which I hadn’t), what kind of brothel would be randomly sending out prostitutes from their business to visit their clients homes uninvited?  Was this meant to be some kind of after-sales service?  And when people visit a brothel, are they required to give their home address?  I’m guessing not.

B: If for some unfathomable reason, when you visited a brothel and for whatever purpose gave them your home address, it was unlikely they would send prostitutes then knocking on neighbours doors and asking to leave incriminating evidence.

It all made zero sense except for someone going out of their way to punk me and I finally got my fiancé to see that.  When I confronted the neighbour about it she told me the same story she told my fiancé; a blond in an SUV had turned up looking for me and gave my neighbour the magazine.  Then she proceeded to tell me that I shouldn’t be getting married if I was doing that kind of thing.  So obviously her intention had been to break up the couple next door, but for what reason I never found out.

A few months later they broke in through our backdoor and stole our TV, I found it pawned at a local Cash Converters.

 

*Bad Neighbour #3: The Drunken Dog-Beater

Werribee Victoria, Australia, 2001

For a short time I rented a house in Werribee.  Not long after moving in a drunk neighbour in his 40’s knocked on the door and asked could I please give him a lift as he really needed to get into town.  I was sceptical but obliged, part of the reason being I was only 23 and he was much older than me – I hadn’t gotten a handle of saying no to people my senior as yet.  Drove him into town and he insisted on giving me a pack of cigarettes as a thank you.

After that at least twice a week he would show up tipsy on our doorstep asking my partner where I was.  She would always lie and say I was out (I was usually tinkering in the shed) and he would protest that I wasn’t because he could see my car there.  Guy was obviously in need of a friend but I had no interest in being it.

He had 3 big dogs that would howl all the time, pretty certain he was beating them from the way he would be yelling and the anguished noises they would make.  Rang the RSPCA about it and they said there was nothing they could do – was pretty surprised and annoyed by that.

 

*Bad Neighbour/hood #4: Crime Everywhere!

Broadmeadows Victoria, Australia, 2003

Was living in a block of a dozen units in the cheapest part of the suburb.  Don’t know how much of it had to do with my neighbours but I got burgled within a month of moving in, then 6 months later came home to find a stolen car in my parking spot with its inside completely stripped.

 

Bad Neighbour/Housemates #5: The Dodgy Nurses

Cricklewood London, England, 2004

Lived in a slim, 3-story share house in Cricklewood, London.  The two girls that ran the share-house, both nurses, were very dodgy – they waited until we gave our deposit before telling us that if we didn’t find someone to replace us when we decided to move out that they would keep our deposit.  They would never give us a receipt for any of the rent we paid so we were pretty sure they were overcharging everyone in the house so that they themselves could live there for free.  My girlfriend had small items of jewellery go missing as well so we had to start locking our bedroom door.

We were on the top floor and there was another Aussie that had his bedroom across the hall from ours.  He would play the same Dire Straights CD over and over again every single night.  You’d just be starting to relax when you’d hear “We gotta move these refrigerators” come blasting out of his room.  Idiot used to sit up there drinking beer all night every night listening to the same songs, the cops even turned up once because he was throwing his beer bottles out the window onto the busy street below.

After a month we couldn’t take living there anymore so found someone to take our room and got them to give their deposit straight to us.  The nurses were livid, it was obvious they had intended to keep our deposit as well as get the deposit off the next guy.  We ended up moving a week early just to get out of there.

 

*Bad Neighbour #6: Stalked for Sex

Grays Essex, England, 2004

Pushy gay guy that lived across the road stalked me for sex.  Full story here.

The day I learned to have empathy for all women everywhere

 

*Bad Neighbour #7: The Cat Neglecter

Heidelberg West Victoria, Australia, 2005

Neighbour had a cat who he never bothered to feed or look after so I ended up feeding it.  He kept it locked outside 24/7 and I would come home to find this cat waiting at my back door crying for a pat and some food.  Neighbour saw me putting out a bowl of water for his cat once on a really hot day but said nothing so it was an indication he was probably happy someone else was looking after his animal, saving him the trouble.  When I moved out I left a note tacked to the inside of one of the cupboards for the new tenants to find, telling them about the cat and suggesting they may want to pick up where I left off.

Had a break-in there, but my housemate was home so the guy got scared off.

 

 *Bad Neighbour/hood #8: Pigeon Lady

Northcote Victoria, Australia, 2009

The lady living to our right was quite nice, but had big bird boxes full of dozens of pigeons right up against our fence, which irked my wife as she hated pigeons.  The thing that used to really annoy us though was she would throw tons of white bread scraps over the fence to our dog, despite being asked several times not to because they were bad for our dogs digestion.

One day came home to find the kid over our back fence was throwing rocks over the fence at the clean washing on our line.  Got robbed twice while we lived there, once they stole my laptop, the other time they stole our digital camera which still had all the photo’s from my 30th birthday party on it, so I don’t have a single photo from that night.

 

*Bad Neighbour/hood #9: Our Nature Strip is his Toilet

Swan Hill Victoria, Australia, 2011

In the small town of Swan Hill in Victoria we had neighbours a few doors down that would have a party every Friday night and be blasting really bad country music in their backyard.  Then one night while I was away supervising a camp, two drunk guys decided that one of them couldn’t make it home to use the toilet in time, discussed the issue and decided to take a dump on our nature strip at 3am, my poor wife having to listen to the whole performance in the middle of the night alone in the house.

 

*Bad Neighbour #10: The Grape-Guns of Wrath

Murrawee Victoria, Australia,  2015

Living on a farm you think you would be safe from bad neighbours but we got one when we bought our first property.  Things were OK for the first couple of years, then the neighbours decided they were going to grow grapes.  So they got three of these huge scare guns that went off on timers to blast every few minutes to scare the birds off.  Problem was that they were so loud you could hear them in our house like they were only a meter away!  I looked up the rules regarding scare guns in rural areas and you were only allowed to have one blast every 15 minutes and only between the hours of 7am and 6pm.  He had 3 guns on 10 minute timers so there was a blast every 3 minutes or so and would go from 6.55am to 8pm every day.  It was like we were living in a warzone and it made life hell, as well as disturbing the sleep of our infant daughter and toddler son.

I finally had enough and went over to complain.  When I arrived I found he had put one of the scare guns as close to our property line as was physically possible.  When he and I began to argue about it I said to him in a reasonable tone “Look, come over and have a cup of tea and you’ll hear what it sounds like in our kitchen”.  That chilled him out a bit and made him more reasonable, but the guns never fully stopped during grape-growing season and we were relieved when we moved away 2 years later.

 

Thankfully my family and I live in an even more remote part of the country now, where we can only see our neighbours by standing on the veranda and looking into the distance.  Lets hope our relatively peaceful existence continues.

Got a bad neighbour story?  Pop it in the comments section below!

 

Being named Karen in a world of “Karen’s”

 

The day I learned to have empathy for all women everywhere

 

The actual event that taught me to feel sorry for what the entirety of the female population has to put up with took place well over a decade ago (and involves me hightailing it down the road with a fear of sodomization forefront in my mind) whilst I was living in the UK.  But first I will relate what has brought this harrowing (but to you probably humorous) event back to mind.

 

The other day I was walking to work.  A woman in her mid 20’s was walking with her young son in a stroller.  She was dressed very neatly, looked like maybe she was a secretary in a law clerks office or something – business shirt, knee length skirt, jacket etc.  So dressed nicely but neatly – there was no overly ample amount of leg or other body part on show.

Around the corner came a fellow on a pissy scooter, looked like something one should be riding on the way to a picnic in southern France rather than around a country town in the bush.  He was dressed slovenly with a beard that would put Costa from Gardening Australia to shame.

He saw the woman, his eyes went wide and his mouth gaped a little.  He then uttered the following cry in her direction:

“Arghahagrhahghagagr!”

In fact it was less of a cry, more of a guttural gargle.  Apparently they phrase “Whey hey!” was too eloquent for him.  He continued on his little fricken scooter around the corner and was gone.

I saw the woman mentally sigh, straighten her shoulders, and then proceed about her day with her kid in tow.  I felt so sorry for this woman – all she was doing was walking with her son – she didn’t deserve to be gargled at in a lecherous fashion.  And what did the gargler expect to happen?  Was this woman going to throw her son – stroller and all – behind a bush, bare her breasts and run at him looking to copulate right there in the middle of the street?  I mean – what was the end result he was after?

You women have to put up with that kind of stupid crap all the time, and it makes me feel for you.  But what happened to me all those years ago made me feel it all the more.

Stop treating me like a sex object! I'm not just a stellar pair of legs!
Stop treating me like a sex object! I’m not just a stellar pair of legs!

 

I was in my mid 20’s and living in a small town called Grays in the Essex countryside in the UK.  As was my usual routine, on a Friday night I would catch a train for the 40 minute ride to London, party the night away with my mutual backpacker friends, then catch the last train home.  This of course left me feeling very seedy every Saturday morning.

This Saturday morning I’d pulled on some old clothes and left the house to walk the 10 minutes to the shops to grab some groceries.  Not long after leaving my front gate I walked past a fellow about my age, wearing a black mesh singlet and jeans.  ‘G’day’ I say in my friendly yet hungover Aussie drawl as I dragged my carcass off in search of food.

As I wandered the different stores, I must have walked past this fellow a good four or five times, always leaning against a wall.  I was not firing on all thrusters so didn’t think much of it.

On my way home there he was again, leaning against a wall.  He detached himself and wandered over to me with an outstretched hand.  “Hi” he said politely.

“Hi” I said and shook his hand for what turned out to be the limpest handshake I have ever endured.  This must have been done on purpose – no one has a handshake that limp!  It was like he had dropped a raw, deboned chicken breast into my hand!

After some initial pleasantries I began to walk home again and he kept pace, peppering me with questions about did I have a girlfriend (I made the stupid mistake of saying that I did but that she was back in Australia – damn you Truthful Trev!), where I lived, did I have housemates, would they be home now etc etc.  I was fending off this verbal barrage as best I could in my mentally sluggish state but this guy was getting more worked up and insistent with his questioning.   Apparently I must have taken this blokes fancy and he was not letting up in pursuit of his quarry.

Now let me preface what I’m about to say with this – I have NEVER had an issue with gay guys trying to pick me up.  It’s something that has happened to me quite a few times, especially since I have gay friends and we all used to hit the town together.  From bars in Melbourne to nightclubs in London (and even one naked guy in a tribal dancepit at Confest at 1am) I’ve been approached but it’s never phased me and I’ve never really understood why some guys get so angry about it.  Heck – someone finds you attractive and interesting – it’s a compliment!  And every other time it’s happened to me I’ve politely rebuffed their advances and it’s been all good.  In fact, now I’m approaching 40 it’s sadly been a few years since I got to enjoy that kind of compliment from someone of either sex.

But this guy was really starting to ring alarm bells, especially with him being insistent about coming home with me ‘to see where I lived’ and wanting to know ‘if it would be just us there’.  I stopped to look at him.

I looked at him and he looked at me and I realized this guy wanted to f*ck meHe wanted to f*ck me very, very badly!  His eyes were wide and intense, his hands were grasping open and shut, his whole body looked poised to spring.  I realized that this guy was, with great difficulty, holding himself back from bending me over on the footpath and taking me right there and then!  I did not want to look down because there was NO WAY this guy was not sporting an erection! It made me feel really uncomfortable, I would have preferred the naked guy at Confest taking another crack! A smiling hippy, even one that’s nude, was way less threatening than this guy was coming across!

I made some hasty excuses, turned down a street that was not the one I actually lived on, then sprinted away into the grey English morning mist.

 

And this is how I came to have empathy for all women everywhere, because almost every woman on the planet has had to deal with this more than once in their lives.  It is very confronting to talk to someone and realize that they fiercely want to have sex with you right there and then – that you are basically a warm body for them to use to vent their sexual frustrations.  If it has never happened to you, you might be able to abstractly conceive of what it is like, but when it actually happens it is hard to describe how unnerving it really is (You can still laugh at the idea of me running like the wind to protect my back-door cherry though).

So guys, don’t gargle at women on the street.  And yes, the urge to mate can be overwhelming, I’ve felt it myself, like if you don’t shag right there and then something in you is going to shatter!  But tone it down, chill the hell out, and maybe it will happen.  But when you aim yourself at a stranger like you are an erection with legs, all you are going to do is ruin someone’s day.

 

And I suppose we must spare a thought for the now middle-aged mesh-singlet wearer, traipsing the English countryside at night, mournfully looking for his lost Aussie love… or his lost lust at any rate.

 

Got a story along a similar lines to share or wish to comment on the above?  Would love to read it in the comments section below!