Sat to my left are a young couple. They are billing and cooing like a bunch of teenagers. They’re supposed to be working. This is a library not behind the fucking bikesheds. He’s talking in that fucking irritating cute voice and she is clinging to him like some fucking human limpet. I’ve seen them about Uni. He talks on her behalf and she just looks sheepish and docile. I bet they’re members of some weird cult.
Yesterday I was trying to get down the Lane with no name. That irritating ignorant fuck next door but one (the aka Good Life) was trimming his hedge. Mr Goodlife, you may recall, is married to a woman that looks like that woman from the eighties BBC drama Life and Loves of a She-Devil. They give the impression that they live self sufficiently and seem to think they own the fucking Lane with No name.
It is communal which means it is shared ownership.
As well as that they were the only people on the row of houses we live on to not come and say hello when we moved in. Anyway, his step ladder (I say step ladder it was more like a stool) was slightly blocking the lane. Now any normal person on seeing a car trying to get past would get out of the way until the car had passed. Not fuckwit. No. He just acted as though I wasn’t there. Ignorant fuck. Instead I had to turn the car round and risk the wrath of Mr Pritchard (next door but one the other way) and go through his gate. As I turned I noticed Mr Good Life topple over onto his front into a bank of nettles. Serves the fucker right.
I told G the Human Dog this morning who added that he had also had run ins with Mr Goodlife blocking the lane with no name when G had been trying to get by.
“Next time ‘e does it ‘am gunna jus leave me car behind his see how he fucking likes it”
I added that G should get me and I’ll move my car into the lane too so Goodlife won’t be able to get past.
I’m sure Mrs Gnomepants wouldn’t approve though.