I never watch horror films because I hate that stuff at the end when the thing you think is dead comes back to life again.
Tuesday night we were assured that the Smiths were gone: we had watched them move all their stuff, with the help of some of their yob mates, who must have found the experience of a hard afternoon's work something of a novel experience.
The local police wandered past and offered their 'congratulations' on the move, which Tracey Smith was obviously touched by (and no, I am not being sarcastic) and cackled 'Oh yeah, and fanks for all yer help!' as they left, as Mrs Angry clenched her fist from behind her window. Mrs Smith sees her move to a new apartment - to an estate in the borough which grown policemen fear to enter without someone holding their hand - as an exciting prospect, apparently. No doubt in their belated haste in trying to move the Smiths Barnet have pushed them in front of some poor family's place on the years' long housing list and rewarded their disgusting behaviour with a nicely refurbished flat. Well, her sons and their pals will have easier access to drugs and will find life generally more to their taste. Their new neighbours may have different views on their arrival.
That night we cracked open the champagne.
The next morning, as I had promised my daughter, we stuck up some bunting in the window as a signal to our friends that we had been liberated at last. Can you blame us, after the last sixteen months?
To my horror, the Smiths returned to the house. Not once, but several times. I hid in the back of the house, my heart thumping. In the early evening we heard the sound of digging. Mr Angry and I looked out and noticed one of the yobs who helped them over their furniture furtively digging at the soil and looking on the ground for something. Odd, we thought.
In the middle of the night, around one o'clock, I woke up suddenly. I could hear the sound of somone quietly letting themselves in next door, and moving in the house. This was alarming as the Smiths were allegedly safely installed in their new flat, and anyway, in all the time they has lived next door they had never once entered or exited the property quietly. I went to the bathroom and noticed a light was on. I lay in bed wondering if one of the yobs who were associates the house had a copy of the key, or was nicking stuff (they all seemed to be prone from stealing from each other) or worse, was about to put a firework through our letter box. Nothing much further seemed to happen, and eventually I fell asleep.
This morning we got up, Mr Angry and the kids went to leave for work and school, and on opening the front door found someone had emptied a bucket load of dirt all over our door step. Dirt, soil, dozens of cigarette butts, bits of rubbish. I can't tell you how that feels, after all the crap we have had to put up with: maybe it seems unimportant but somehow it just underlines to us how these low life shits just get away with everything.
Well, of course we rang the police - you reading this Big Ears? They said oh. Was it a lot of stuff? How much would you say? I had to go out in my night attire, stand on the doorstep, and assess the amount scientifically: was it a skip's worth? No. Was it more than two teaspoons? Yes. Does that count as harrassment then? Can't come to see it today. OK: I'll keep it for you. Can you at least speak to the Smiths? Yes. Good because otherwise I will be pouring this through the letterbox of next door. Sound of policeman about to say I wouldn't do that if I were you Madam, but not quite daring.
I can see the scene. Policeman arrives at the Smiths new place. Hello, Mrs Smith, just come to see if you are settling in okay. Oh, that's nice! Yeah, s'lovely, thanks. Look, Travis, the nice policeman has come to see you are being a good boy. Say hello! Aahh ... no, Travis, don't spit out of the window ... Policemans asks: now then, did you by any chance lose a bucket of soil and a few fag ends in the middle of the night? Tracey Smith will shake her head in wide eyed innocence: ooh, no officer. That's alright then, I'll leave you to unpack. Yeah, ok, then, - and thanks for all your help!
Give me strength.