Once Upon A Time...

... it was extremely easy to fall asleep and stay asleep.

Now as I am growing older I find that sleep is becoming one of those illusive things that just is so bloody difficult to grasp hold of, and as a result I am ratty and tired and have spots appearing all over the shop.

Yesterday I had a pretty lazy day. I was lazing in bed contemplating the nice leisurely breakfast I would have and the list of chores that I would do. As I was mentally rearranging the clothes in the wardrobe and stacking the t-shirts in order of colour, a gentle 'thump-thump' started below my room and I groaned because I knew what to expect next and I was right. The 'thump-thump' grew louder and soon the lovely silence was lost in a frenzy of dance music that only the chavs and those With No Taste seem to favour. My neighbour was up and decided to put his music on.

Now I should warn you that this is no ordinary neighbour. When we moved in, Small flatmate received a card from the old flatmates with the enigmatic message 'Be nice to the Incredible Hulk downstairs' scrawled in bold red letters. It didn't take long to decipher that what we had inhabiting the flat downstairs was a person of miniscule IQ but massive bulk along with a bellowing voice that I'd only ever heard utter up to two syllables at any one time. The few times that I have tried reasoning with said Hulk about music at 2am has only led me to understand and believe that he may indeed be the Missing Link.

Under normal circumstances I would shout, or thump the floor and be rewarded with a lowering of said music. Instead on the occasions I have tried this I have been presented with even louder music and, if he's in a REALLY foul mood, bad, tuneless accompanied singing to whatever track was playing.

It might be a rumour but we understand that the Hulk has done time. This was confirmed when I knocked on his door the very first time and noticed badly done prison tatoos across one arm and the immortal 'LOVE' 'HATE' tattooed over his knuckles, although the tatooist must have been illiterate or dyslexic or even Northern as 'LOVE' was abbreviated to 'LOOV'. And peering through the black grille that is reminiscent of prison bars I swear I saw one wall down the hallway wallpapered with ASBO certificates or whatever you call them...

Anyway, music pounding I roll out of bed and run my mental Plan Of Action to Knock Out His Stereo with a remote laser, but where would one find one like that?

So I have a shower and while I'm getting dressed the music seems to fade, then stops altogether. This is punctuated by a loud 'FUCK!'

And so, boys and girls, once upon a time there was an unreasonable neanderthal that roamed the streets of North London, terrorising neighbours with his sheer bulk and incoherent ramblings. And one day there was a chic, suave and urbane gentleman, who using the power of mind over matter, managed to make said neanderthal's stereo system go into meltdown... sheer delight and justice.

I'm just hoping that he won't know how to fix either the blown fuse or whatever it is that has blown. But in my experience they tend to just buy new ones.

I'm keeping the ASBO people on speed-dial.

Just In Case.