Nelson Galaxy

I have new neighbours in the flat above me. I have not met them yet, and I do not believe I ever shall. It is very much the London way to never meet one’s neighbours. I do not even know who lives next door to me – but I do hear their constant playing of samba music. Arrghh, the drums. The people living above me have obviously only just moved to the metropolis and do not know what it is like to live on a major tributary into central London.

My flat is situated between a student bar and a gay bar on the Mile End Road. Both establishments close at three a.m. People leave and, being drunk, will shout, sing, fight and generally act in an irresponsible manner for a residential area.

I have lived here for so long now I am used to it. My nightly a.m. alarm call of abuse and football chants has become a welcome habitual disturbance. I can turn around in bed and go back to sleep. When staying with my mother or Napoleon, I find the nighttime silence to be oppressive and yearn for the sound of a police siren.

The new residents of my building must have had a shock when, as three in the morning arrives, a large gang of men proceed to make merry on the pavement under their window. I can hear them but I just turn over and thank dog it is not yet 6.30. I heard the window opening and then a man shouting, “Will you just shut up, you stupid f*****g fat t**t. Ignorant c**ts. F**k off!” Surprisingly, the men just slinked off without another word.

The man upstairs had better get used to the noise or else he will be shouting and ranting every single night, at men, women, police cars, motorbikes, cars with a 60 watt PA system installed, foxes and geese, film crews, honking, the moon, aliens, monkeys (huh monkey), guns, airplanes, beavers (mmmm beaver), the prawn man, sausages, dogs, ghosts, bats, hats, bats in hats and catnip, etc etc etc……….