Wednesday, July 31, 2013

the golden girls

Quite some time ago I posted a story [aptly renamed “battle of the bins in the burbs”
by the insightful Andrew of High Riser fame]. 

Perhaps you’ll let me digress in a stream of Beckettish absurdity [not original]

A cow stood on the railroad track
The driver rang the bell
But did that cow move off the track?
It did – like ****** hell…

By which I mean to answer the question “has the battle with the bin duffer next door abated?” with the response “It has… like ***** hell.”

Oh, all right… here’s the rest of it so you can actually concentrate on the bin saga leaving me free to continue

There was a crash
A mighty smash!
Bits of cow did fill the air…
One teat fell into an old maid’s lap
Which did her bosom thrill;
She cried aloud to all the crowd
“My God… the driver’s killed!”

Now, back to the bins. Mr wotsisface has spent the last 12 months collecting photographic evidence of all the transgressions of all his neighbours. The housing estate is about 40 years old and most houses have single driveways.

We live on a very odd-shaped block which has a very small frontage and there is no room to expand. Aunty’s car is often blocked in by TO’s in the drive, while my lovely new blue broomstick is in the street. The nose of said broomstick protrudes across part of Bin Guardin's street frontage. He is always careful to park his car in such a way that it takes up two and a half car spaces, lest anyone have the gall to use any more of “his” parking space than I already steal.

The nice Mr C on the other side has adjusted to 21st Century reality and extended his drive into garden space so it might accommodate family car, horse float, trailer, 4WD what pulls the float, and cars for each of his 3 adult kids, but we still have just a tiny single drive with a teeny tiny carport.

Mr C parked his work vehicle in front of the Bin Gaudin's place one day while rearranging deckchairs in his own parking lot. Motor still running, Mr C jumped out to make sure he was not obstructing any of Bin's drive and, before he could leap in again to reverse another 6 inches, Mr Bin leapt out with a camera and took shots from every angle to prove Mr C had parked illegally.

Every time a car moves, a photo is taken. Every possible combination and permutation of cars in streets and driveways has been recorded. It’s Google street-view to the nth degree.

TO pulled up in the end of the court a few weeks ago and Mr Bin Guardin started clicking away. TO alighted from her vehicle, turned to face him and said “Why can’t we just be good neighbours? What have we done to you?”
Not having a telephoto lens, he moved in physically rather than figuratively in order to get a closer shot of TO “taunting” him.
That’s when it happened. Something strange came over her, causing her to channel one of her alter egos – Lady Priscilla Beauchamp-Smythe who had romped and posed coquettishly on the grand piano wearing nothing but a pink leotard and a pair of diamante earrings at her 60th birthday party.

Fast forward to the other night when two young but senior policemen, who had either ingested a lot of steroids while pumping iron or had failed to realise their T shirts were very tight, started knocking on doors in the court.

They had, it seems, a file 4 feet thick of the goings on in the court – including photos of a work vehicle obstructing Bin Guardin’s driveway, and a report from the man what drives the rubbish truck who had copped a heap of abuse on the aforementioned day of the battle of the bins.
[If the file contains some pseudo-titillating shots of Lady Priscilla, neither of these young chaps were about to admit to having seen them. Perhaps they aren’t as tough as they look?] But I digress again…

TO mentioned in the list of “it might have been him but we have no proof” incidents she was relating to the Peelers that her flagpole had mysteriously broken off at the base only weeks after it was first raised.
“Aha!” I happily leapt in, “So, you admit it wasn’t me!”

Do we feel threatened? I don’t. Not personally. The man has issues, but now that the council has advised everyone in the court where bins must be located for collection, he doesn’t bother me at all.

TO offered her own take on the situation… There is an elderly Aunt here, and TO and I were getting on [I kicked her under the table but she did not press charges]. TO feels a bit threatened.
“We’re just the Golden Girls”, she joked, “And I’m the slut”.

I waited til they left before suggesting they probably believe she is a slut, but are far too young to have any idea who the Golden Girls are.

Mr Bin Guardin has suggested we are all a bunch of racists. He always says hello and smiles to JJ when she sees him, but probably doesn’t realise our Filipina housemaid gets 35 cents an hour – way above the award. No need to pity her at all, really.


  1. Where is the Franger hospital story...we are all waiting...

    1. What I really mean to say is, a very unwell TO has just asked me to watch a movie with her, as diversional therapy. The latest franger hospital story deserves the time it might take to do well. Watch this space.

  2. Nothing worse than difficult neighbours. We have had barking dog problems but luckily our neighbours are friendly and helpful and they are trying to correct the problem. They put a zappy collar on the dog today when they went out and we didn't hear a peep.

    1. I must confess we have yappy dogs. One was a rescue and she is as nervous as pie. We tried a zappy collar, a colour that sprays citrus, and even a water pistol. She has calmed down a little, but has taught the other [who never barked] to be a yapper when someone comes to the door. I don't think they yap when there is no one home to "protect". She is okay after she meets people except there are one or two she simply doesn't trust at all [and I don't find it hard to agree with her judgment.]

  3. If he accuses you of being racist, then he is a bit or a lot foreign born. My brother who lives not so far away had issues with a similar person who came from a different culture and thought he had the right to chop down the tree on his nature strip.

    I was proud of my brother as to my surprise he focused on the action and the person and not his race.

  4. PS, you are so not Golden Girls.

  5. Oh bummer. We just have trail-bike-riding-brainless-twat-moron issues over here. But I'm tempted to try the filming thing on them now that you've mentioned it ... Meanwhile, I await the hospital story. How dare you put quality time with TO before your loyal readers!

    1. Hmmm - not Harley-riding-brainless-twat-moron issues?

      Yer Honner, I only took pikchas one night and that was cos it became so redikyouliss I wanted to share the story with my readers. Bin Guardin takes lots of pictures and I'm not sure the local constabulary think very highly of him.

      I would suggest the Enid Blyton approach. The Secret Seven found some smugglers in a cave and trapped them with a web of cotton and honey.

    2. HHHMMMmmm... that presents a VERY disturbing mental image!!!!

    3. Oh, after I pressed publish on that one I called myself a name but moved on. The chain of thought went something like this:
      *trail-bike-riding-brainless-twat-morons are everywhere
      *the only way to get them off their bikes is to string a great piece of metal cable across the road/their path at neck-height
      *I should be more christian, so let's just use the cotton and honey across the road.

      I know, I know, it's stupid ideas like that that got Enid into hot water, not the fact that Noddy would be rude enough to call his best friend - who looks like a cab with the front doors open - Big Ears.

  6. Pink leotard and diamante earrings you say FC..TO sounds like a lot of fun :) your over zealous neighbour sounds like a pain in the proverbial..we had neighbours a few years ago who almost made us move until I read them the riot act..I'd like to say that's why they moved but honestly it was really because the men in blue came and hauled them off..they had a very 'interesting shed' apparently :) you should freak him out and start carrying YOUR camera around and snap him now and then, let him know how it feels.

    1. Grace, TO is both the funniest and the fun-est person I have ever met. [Her other virtue is that she is even shorter than I am.]

      I cannot begin to imagine you reading the riot act to irritating neighbours! Where is the YouTube video of the delicate lady with carefully painted toenails, lovely espadrilles, carefully coiffed hair, gesticulating wildly while gabbling in great speed in French? It's okay, I think I can see it now...