Everybody needs good neighbours.

I don’t normally bother with my neighbours much. I’ll exchange a few words with the husband next door or the couple on the other side but in the main I find most of them ineffably tedious. But this morning, whilst walking into town for an appointment with the DWP (basically half an hour of being told I’m doing everything I can to find a job!) one of them decided to speak to me.

O’ what a tale she wove. Mountainous Mary, the local busybody, has declared herself the Queen of the Street .Technically speaking in entomological terms I’d agree, most queens in the insect world are bloated & produce vast amounts of offspring. In ants, termites & bees these become workers, but not in her family. The old biddy I was talking to tells a story of her trying to run people down with her disability scooter, arguments over dogs barking & dog fouling (they both have very yappy terriers)

and the police being called over minor disputes. It seems the mountainous one beleives herself to be royalty of the road because she knows everyone on the street & talks to us all.

I don’t talk to her much, unless it’s to tell her to mind her own fucking business, which is about the intellectual level the troglodyte understands, & as a result she leaves me in peace. I told the old biddy if she had issues to take it up with the landlord.

Always amazes me how stupid people are.

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