Drew the curtains at seven this morning to see fat slob hanging naked out the landing window opposite having a cigarette. He's been smoking out that window since his teens and gets thuggier as the years go by. Return to my bedroom after having my tea and tidying the mugs from the lounge to find fat slob back in the window with another cigarette, this time in a foul royal blue shirt. This is not the face of the world I want to see first thing in the morning. Fucking peeping tom. He freaks out my teenage daughter as the buildings are built far too close. A gigantic hook-beaked albatross-sized seagull strolls over the rooftops, looking for prey. Wish it would take fat slob away.
I bet Virginia Woolf didn't have these problems when she lived in Bloomsbury.
I bet Virginia Woolf didn't have these problems when she lived in Bloomsbury.
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