The neanderthal at number 9

Well, things seem to be moving nicely on this front in that Kim’s offer was (finally) accepted on the property. A few weeks ago, he verbally accepted an offer and then decided to reject it once it came through to him via his estate agent, the prick.

Since then, we’ve seen people come up to the door to view the property and either be told to “**** off” (once) or just be blatantly ignored when he was most definitely in. One Saturday morning, there were two sets of people stood there ringing the estate agent to ask what was going on. I was in my neighbour’s (the one between me and “him”) and we could hear his house phone ringing, and him inside ignoring it…

The price of the property dropped a week ago so Kim put another offer in, this time directly to the estate agent. Aforementioned agent, incidentally, seemed to agree with Kim’s opinions. They’d noticed he seemed to be in a world of his own, not replying to messages, never answering his phone and so forth. He finally responded to a letter they wrote detailing the offer, and frankly I don’t think they can wait to shift the property and get rid of him.

Speaking to the friendly neighbour again, it seems that Ugh-Boy has also gotten himself a bad name with the two houses on the other side as well. The couple at number 7 played merry hell with him over two things. Shortly after their little lad was born (about 9 months ago), they were chucking his shitty nappies into a cardboard box in the back garden rather than disposing of them properly.

Not only did this bloody stink, number 7 have a very curious 2 year-old who sticks his fingers into everything… Of course, Rat-Boy’s not known for giving a **** about anyone else. This was resolved.

Next was more recently. It turns our that Mrs Number 7 works for the council and happened to spot the deeds he’s put through when the house went up for sale. On them, he stated he had some grass out front (he doesn’t – all the grass belongs to No.7) and that the house had free accessibility to the rear. Erm… no. There’s the small matter of her garden and the fence.

These would be the same obstacles she watched two delivery men trundle a living room suite over without her permission as they delivered it a few weeks ago. Needless to say she went ******* mental on him. Again.

Then there was a few weeks ago… Remember the fun I was having getting him not to illegally park his car in the ahared drive? Well, he took to parking it down the street, in front of number 5. With bits of his car sticking out over his theior drive, so they couldn’t get in or out.

The chap there is quite highly thought of – head chef, I believe, of a local restaurant. A proper one, not a McD’s or anything. I believe the conversation was along the lines of “If you don’t move your car and park it somewhere else, I’ll slash all the tyres and **** the windows up.”

He never parked there again.

What he did do was tail the guy’s wife up the main street at 30mph, at a distance of 3-4 inches, revving his throttle.

Needless to say, celebrations wil be had when he finally ***** off. I am thinking of organising a small party – invitations and everything. We’ll sit around as he packs, all holding balloons and stuff, then when he drives off up the street we’ll set off fireworks. There will be dancing and jelly and loud music.

And many households sticking fingers up as the inbred troll disappears off, never to be seen again.