Le voisin qui vient de l'enfer

Imagine being so afraid of your neighbour that you run to the bathroom at the slightest sound of the jangle of a key, or, God forbid, a ring of the bell or a knock at the door. The excuse "I'm in the shower, I'm in the shower" goes through your head a thousand times as you turn on the cold water and wipe wipe wipe wipe down the tiles.



This is the life that PopGoesCanberra is living. He's not a bad neighbour.



Not "bad" in the sense that he means well.

But if you open that door,



Then he will talk and talk and talk and talk. About how hard he works, about his car, about bloody everything. And he'll give you candy and chips. Beware.



After the incident this morning, I only found comfort when I sat on the toilet and did a big poo while listening to Natalie Imbruglia's latest album, Counting Down the Days.