Poole Tourism….staying next door to 179 Wimborne Road the ‘Jamaica Inn’

There is nothing quite like having your sleep disturbed by two old aged pensioners who deal drugs to under-age teenagers (especially) and everyone else (indifferently), and who aren’t quite done with the ‘rob-thy-neighbour-whilst-they’re-your-neighbour’ lifestyle. Their solution to not being able to physically carry out local robberies, get other people to carry them out for you, softening the ground a little by threatening to get associates to stab your neighbours in the back, unless they cough up some cash.

How did I discover who my neighbours were? Maybe it had something to do with the people living close by them, all of whom had taken to parking their trucks and family caravans horizontally across their front doors late in the evening. Or perhaps it was the frequency with which their home was visited well after 2am in the morning.

Or maybe it was the fifty minute long, lewd, monologues in which our sixty year old neighbour indulged himself whilst dangling from a ladder perched against the boundary fence of his property and ours. Monologues which were the equivalent of a ten minute 0800 sex call but free of the phone charges and coming at the expense of a very disinterested couple. Perhaps the aged Lothario had dementia, perhaps he’d mistaken my partner for my pimp, who knows?

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