These subjects must be put on hold:-
- A quest for the ultimate custard tart. It's a sort of suburban version of the Quest for the Holy Grail but without knights, magic, swords, chivalry or a chalice.
- Woolwich Photographic Society and their impact on the Magnum Group
- My concept for a Plumsteadshire Modern Art Museum. You'll like the next bit - 'Tate Common'. I have an amazing concept design which will be revealed in due course.
- My concept for a Plumsteadshire Film Club. You'll like the next bit - 'Splice Island'.
- The best days out for children. All tried and tested by my team of experts.
This week, I've had to go and ask them to turn down their horrible boom boom music twice. Over the two years they've infested this area, I've probably knocked on their door over thirty times. I've been very close to putting an official complaint to the housing association, but I don't think it fair for them to be uprooted and moved into a faceless council estate where their children might just plummet into a chasm of no hope. Having said that, living here, they just stick out like a maggot ridden bubonic sore thumb. I know it's not exactly Hampstead Garden Suburb here, but they really are a Victorian freak show.
Actually, I have a question. Is there some modern day tribal code that dictates males of the chav genus must only wear underpants when at home²? Similarly, all windows must be kept wide open at all times? When I popped round yesterday, one mutant answered the door in his pants. Maybe it was quite warm? But I remembered whenever I popped round in deepest sub zero last Winter, they were 'dressed' as if they were holidaying in the Seychelles.
1 - they, meaning the so-called neighbours, not my lovely listeners
2 - this is a genuine question that I need feedback on