Considering how our yuppie stereotype neighbours languish in their Craig-David-Robbie-Williams-Dido-Freedom-Furniture-Showroom existence, it’s a godsend that our other neighbour keeps to himself. Well, in a reserved, creepy, John Burgess kinda way.
There’s not much that we know about this guy, mostly because he doesn’t flail around in his front yard with dislocated wrist bones, wailing about how fahhhhn tahhhhstic his investment portfolio is looking this financial year. Occasionally we hear him eerily muttering into his mobile phone in his garden, but that’s about it.
All we’ve been able to gather is that he’s an Army man. We’ve caught glimpses of him slithering out his front door in Army garb and whispering Army secrets into his phone – besides that, he really does keep to himself. He doesn’t seem to go out very often, he doesn’t live with anyone else, and he’s the quietest neighbour you could hope for.
Well – actually, no, that’s an enormous fucking lie. See, at 5.30am on the freakin’ dot, his alarm clock starts blaring through our window.
And doesn’t stop until 8.00am.
EVERY DAY.
It’s at the point where I now have to base my life around waking at 5.30am every day, and that’s not good, because at that hour of the day, the risk of accidentally viewing repeats of Skippy or Christian religitainment is extremely high.
Yet this dude’s still at home when his alarm goes off. I’m truly boggled as to how this dude manages to sleep through this racket (or DOES he)?
It’s got me wondering if he’s just smacked out of his nut every night, and eventually just passes out on the floor at 3am, oblivious to the alarm which rackets around his house every morning. Maybe he’s not so much an Army man as a smackie porn actor who specialises in playing an Army man.
He’s somewhat like the Aldi of neighbours – just like any other neighbour, but harbouring a creepy undercurrent that you can’t quite put your finger on.