Neighbourhood Watch

Andy Rivers

Karl Robson scratched the beer belly protruding from over his tracksuit bottoms, burped loudly and flicked what was left of his cigarette over the balcony of the tower block onto the vandalised children’s playground below. Only then did he contemplate the two, nervous looking, middle-aged women standing before him.

“What?” he grunted.

Ida Gray considered the yob in front of her, he’d moved in next-door a few months ago and they hadn’t really seen eye to eye since. He was just like the ones you read about in the paper, ill educated, ignorant and totally selfish.

“The residents committee have received a number of complaints about the noise Mr. Robson and as representatives of the residents of the estate we were wondering if you could turn the music down a little. You don’t have to turn it off, I mean we both enjoy a bit of rock n roll ourselves but if you could just show some consideration we’d appreciate it.”

Karl eyed them up and down; they must be about fifty he reckoned. Not past it yet, he was thirty-five himself, but Jesus they were old before their time these two. Look at them; button up cardigans and sensible shoes, two old maids, probably never done anything out of the ordinary in their lives.