Sunday, 27 March 2011


Simone came to dinner last night. (She was in the diary for January 5th, only I was standing in that Monoprix queue for a little longer than I'd expected).

She had some news for me.

She'd run into Monkey Woman's boyfriend, who regaled her with a list of complaints sooo bad about life in this apartment block that he and his chunky monkey companion had no choice but to move out.

Their main issue, it would appear, is that I'm so noisy they're going to the police to make a complaint about me!


Well, it is the case that one night last week I'd gone to bed very early, so that when the phone went at 10.30 I answered it in my bedroom.  And, erm, had a conversation.  

Cue LOUD BANGING ON THE BEDROOM WALL. (Which I obviously dealt with as placidly as you would expect from someone whose veins contain nothing other than a cocktail of Portuguese and Russian blood).  

The next day I left a note on their door telling them that if they continued to watch loud DVDs in their bedroom through the night, run baths at 3.00am whilst the clothes dryer was tumbling away until 5.00am, and SHOUT at each other from different ends of the apartment to be heard above the noise of the running bath and the kitchen machinery - not to mention continue with their harassment of me - I would complain to the syndic, the management agency who run the block.

Must admit, hadn't thought of the police, though. Inspired.

But the biggest news of all, dear Reader, is that Monkey Woman is expecting a little baby chimp!  (Delighted all that monkey business I've had to endure listening to has had some point to it).  

Anyway, on and on Banana Man went at Simone...the elevator makes a noise when people use it, when the inner elevator doors are left open it means people can't use it and then it doesn't make a noise (well, make up your bloody mind, which do you prefer, FGS?), do you know what happened the other day his girlfriend had to walk up the stairs and she's pregnant (erm, about three or four months gone, I would say, but obviously pregnant women lose the use of their legs pretty early on in the South of France), Simone's cat (one of the sweetest pussycats in the whole world) occasionally comes out of her apartment and meows at them (and leaves the elevator doors open?), he needs to live somewhere better because he works in a restaurant (oh, why didn't he let us know that before?)...ZZZzzz...


Surely not.

Anyway, they're off to to St Laurent du Var.  Which is very close to the airport, and the location for Cap 3000, the large out-of-town shopping mall (3000 denoting the number of parking spaces).  So, a lot quieter there, then.

And I'm certain their baby won't cry through the night.  Much.  

(Hee hee hee).


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Please be nice, but not funnier than me. Thanks.