Well, at number 9 actually but I couldn’t resist a Bill & Ted quote.
I was just getting ready to go to bed last night and their door kept openign and shutting. Much rattling of the driveway gates (which is bloody annoying as they’re attached to my house and actually make the floor vibrate if they’re – say – slammed violently off my wall).
So I did the usual and peeked out. One of the minibuses that take people to the airport turned up. quot;Oh," thought I,"the buggers are off on holiday."
But no. First one large suitcase on wheels emerges airborne from the front door. Then another. Ratboy appears and lugs them down the drive to the minibus and loads them in. Then goes abck inside and comes out with a box full of plastic bags – definitely not holiday luggage.
This is followed by another box, another bag and a large portable telly. Malaga is, I’m fairly certain, not the intended destination.
He disappears into the house again and the driver starts to get bored, revving the engine and moving the fan back and forth. I could hear things being thrown down the stairs as if there’s more to shift, but after five minutes Ratboy finally reappeared.
Only to go over to the minibus and start to unload everything. The driver drove off, Ratboy took everything back indoor and the door was closed.
How ******* weird is that?
Hmmmmmm either he attempted to throw his latest woman out, or he finally thought about emptying the house for Kim?
That boy needs help… preferably the violent kind 🙂
I’d kill him, but I know how crap the soil is out back. I’d never be able to bury his stick-like corpse deep enough to keep it hidden.
if he seems like the sensible sort i’d just say he was being prepared though i really think that you should ring the white van and straight jacket brigade about him, purely as a concerned neighbour, of course. hehe!
In the film “Trainspotting” the phrase is “the discipline of the baseball bat”.
That is seriously weird, the sort of weird that prempts a house move.
v.v. weird indeed – still, hope springs eternal that 2005 might usher in a sparkly new era of ratboylessness…