Ella v Fat Bottomed Girls
I love sitting in the sun and listening to birdsong and the sounds of nature.
I cannot understand people who have to drown it out with music.
Yesterday was particularly sunny and peaceful. The birds were in full voice and it was heaven. And then the neighbour decided to have a barbecue.
This is the neighbour who’s house I have decorated with my golf practice, so I’ll call him Jackson Pollock. I don’t really talk to him except for the odd grunt if we pass in the village. There’s no animosity – we just have nothing in common.
Barbecues are fine as they can make quite a nice aroma, but not if they are accompanied with music. And this was particularly horrid music. I don’t know what it’s called – a sort of jazz/blues/soul singing. I think of Ella Fitgerald for some reason. Ella, or whoever she was, sounded very depressed as she crooned away. She sounded like she was going to commit suicide any minute. But unfortunately she didn’t. She went on and on and on. I was getting very depressed.
I’m not one for retaliation, but I cracked. I had enough of Jackson and Ella, so I opened all the windows in the house and put on Queen.
I may have overdone the volume a bit, as part of the new ceiling fell in. Valentia Observatory rang and complained that I was upsetting their seismological measurements once again. I hear that George W went to DefCon One as they thought there had been a missile launch. It was loud, but it was better than that caterwauling from Pollock’s.
I suppose I could have just asked him to turn it down, but Mrs Pollock is sort of scary. She’s a sort of ageing Yummy Mummy [and yes, she does drive her SUV as if she owns the place]. And anyway, I’d have had to run the gauntlet of his electronic gates – I’d have to stand in the road and wait for his intercom to squawk – and I do retain some sense of dignity. So that was out.
I could have e-mailed, but he obviously wasn’t near his PC. I could have phoned but
The Rottweiler Mrs Pollock might have answered. So that just left direct action.
I apologise to the rest of my neighbours. If you can still hear me, that is. I hate any sort of radio in the open air because it is so inconsiderate, and I won’t be doing it again.
Unless of course the Pollocks start up. In which case I might have to bring out my ultimate Weapon of Mass Destruction.
My Status Quo collection.
Thhe Treebaluchas next door are always at the same crack.
You did the only right thing.
Did you hear my concert from your place?
I was in Monaghan yesterday, and I did hear Queen.
Could have been the radio, but that wouldn’t explain the shockwave.
So you are the reason for my headache!
You should have tried the target practice with the golf clubs.
Squashy turds all over the guests would drive them indoors faster than you might wink.
You have to think these things through, Grannymar. If I had played a bit of golf, he’d have had cause for complaint. As it was, he couldn’t complain because he started it.
You’ve been missing for a while?
Not quite missing.
Lurking with the odd comment.
trying to concentrate on alterations and finishing touches for 23rd.
I hate having to unpick my work as the stitches are so fine.
By the way did you ever try walloping ice cubes with the clubs? Evidence evaporates fast!
Grannymar – you are a genius!!! In this weather, I can smash all the windows I like and there is nothing to produce in court!!!! I love it.
remind me never to move next door to Grannymar
She is both vindictive and a genius a scary combination to say the least
Sounds to me like they were listening to Billy Holiday. You described it well. She does sound like she is on the verge of suicide but unfortunately doesn’t.
Very funny post.
I like the term Yummy Mummy, much less coarse than MILF.
@Grannymar – yes, a true genius!
There are some things that you just don’t do on a sunday. Jazz and blues, chainsaws and 100 cockatoos squawking on my roof come to mind. Each as grating as the other . . .I’m tempted to use your golf technique to down a few of the chicken sized verandah chewers!
Latest update on this……
Billy Holiday or Ella Fitzgerald or whoever was still on the verge of suicide accompanied by saxaphones and double bass. But it was very very quiet!!!
Rock on, Queen. You’re the best.
I woke up early ONE morning,
The earth lay cool & still
When suddenly a tiny bird
Perched on my window sill,
He sang a song so lovely
So carefree & so gay,
That slowly all my troubles
Began to slip away.
He sang of far off places
Of laughter & of fun,
It seems his very thrilling,
brought up the morning sun.
I stirred beneath the covers
Crept slowly out of bed,
Then gently shut the window
And crushed his fucking head.
I’m not a morning person
Ladies and Gentlemen……. I give you…
THE ACCIDENTAL TERRORIST!!
Welcome TAD to the wonderful world of blogging!!
… So what does my “D” stand 4 in TAD again?
Jayzus! Good point! You should be TAT. It was a sort of typo that became part of your name.
From now on I shall give you your correct name. Put it down to old age on my part. Sorry.
I shall issue a press release to that effect at some stage.
Thanks… O wise one
TAD is dead. Long live TAT.
BTW, a couple of comments don’t make you a blogger. You have to pass your exams yet.
Cripes! Lucky we were away.
Mind you. I could have enjoyed a bit of ‘Duelling HiFis’.
Now where did I put that Steppenwolf LP? Always did like the EARSCHPLITTENLOUDENBOOMER 😉
You mean you didn’t hear it? I had reports that it was audible in Monaghan. And that means that about 80% of the country heard it.
You must be in the very very far west!!