Dear Noisy Neighbours,
There are some choice swear words I would like to throw at you, but in the interest of being neighbourly, I’m going to replace them all with the word ‘funk’.
Please turn your funking music down so I can get some funking sleep.
I’ve lived in this lovely area for four months now, and you have woken me up on many occasions (and by that, I mean all the funking time). Last night, like many other nights, it was at 4.30a.m, a time of morning that should be reserved for breakfast radio hosts, international flight passengers, and parents of infants.
By 5a.m, when I still couldn’t block out the music and your lovely, happy party shouting, I assumed you were partying in your backyard, or perhaps actually pressed up against my bedroom window. I came out onto my balcony in my pink dressing gown to yell at you kindly request some quiet, but you were actually INSIDE your house, yet still radiating the neighbourhood.
I didn’t want to wake my other neighbours by pointlessly yelling at you kindly requesting some quiet when you couldn’t even see/hear me, so after 10 minutes of waiting for you to poke your heads outside, I gave up and went back to bed.
For twenty minutes. And then some of you DID move outside.
I ran back to my balcony so I could yell request quiet,but your friends were loudly revving the engine of their shithouse fancy ute. They were then reversing down your driveway for so long and with such difficulty, that I am worried that the man behind the wheel was:
I had high hopes that the music would desist after this, but alas, no. That favourite song of yours – you know, with the artist who has discovered one note on the bass guitar and stuck with it, over and over and over and funking over – was cranked up with such heavy bass support that my windows decided to join in and dance.