Night of the Loud Chavs

Last night I was fast asleep; that blissful, deep ‘Delta’ sleep, where you are really resting without being disturbed by all that REM business. Then:

THUMP, THUMP, THUMP

“LET ME IN THE FUCKING HOUSE YOU BASTARD…I’M WARNING YOU, STOP FUCKING ABOUT…”

What the – ?

Suddenly I’m awake and alert, what’s going on?

All this was delivered in a very loud, very raucous shout just discernable as having come from a (very pissed off) female. It is not occurring in our nice, quiet, refined close, but from the houses behind; the large conifers between us and them do nothing to shield the noise which sounds like it is right outside our bedroom window.

 I look at the clock – it is 03:38.

THUMP, THUMP, THUMP

“I’M WARNING YOU, IF YOU DON’T OPEN THIS DOOR I’M GOING TO KICK THE FUCKER IN….”

This goes on for some time in a similar vein. Thoughts go through my head: should I call the police?  Is there anywhere I can buy a high powered rifle at this time of night?

Then, more subdued voices. Presumably a neighbour trying to politely shut her up.

“IT’S MY FUCKIN’ HOUSE: MY NAMES ON THE FUCKIN’ MORTGAGE. I AM NOT BEING LOCKED OUT OF MY OWN FUCKIN’ HOUSE!”

This last statement obviously contrary to all available evidence.

She decides to try a different tack:

“RIGHT THAT’S IT, OPEN THE FUCKIN’ DOOR OR I’M ON THE PHONE TO YOUR PARENTS; GET THEM TO SORT YOU OUT. I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF DEALING WITH YOU.”

Obviously the threat of getting mummy and daddy involved doesn’t have the desired effect. Shouting continues.

After a while an ominous quiet descends, then the unmistakable trundle of a wheely bin. God knows what she’s doing now, but it’s not working. More shouting.

Finally it goes quiet, there’s the sound of a car starting up and driving away and peace returns. Of course, it’s too late now. Sleep has deserted me and the rest of the night’s sleep is fitful.

I hope this is not going to be a habit, but just in case, I have a solution. In these days of public service cutbacks, the police don’t want to be involved in such domestics, so I suggest that the neighbours should be able to take things into their own hands:

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About Darrel Kirby

I am what I am.
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2 Responses to Night of the Loud Chavs

  1. janh1 says:

    I weep for you, I deeply sympathise. Our ex-next door neighbours went through a long and bitter separation/divorce, the high point of which were shared by everyone in our street.

    On memorable night the early-hours disturbance ended with X (the wife) running down the drive after her mother, who was backing away in a car, yelling “Yeah, just GO you evil bitch. You never did anything when dad was molesting me did you? DID YOU?”
    followed by much boo-hooing and wailing.

    Quite tricky to get back to sleep after such unexpected revelations.

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