Don't 'Chuck' with Me!

It was bound to happen sooner or later. But, I must admit, I nae thought it would be I who would cause this tragedy.

"A'ight, spit it out."

I've been gracing the nation's capital for nearly two months now, and it's become common practice for my flat to indulge in the glories of dizzy-water and hat-time in the weekend. We have two young families living on either side of the flat and I've been expecting something to come along and rustle their feathers for some time. But surprisingly, we havn't had any complaints from them about our debauchery.

However, this all changed last week.

Following tradition, my flatmates and I indulged in a few cases of delicious dizzy water and the smokey-timbre of hat time. I had been mega-poor (and I mean almost resorting to escorting poor) for about 3 weeks and so thought this an appropriate occasion to drown my sorrows and have some fun, and thus I was taken out by the wily combination. I don't remember much of the night, but I do remember crawling into bed, and then violently chucking several minutes later. Oh, yes, good times. After wiping my jowls, I fell blissfully into the land of nod.

"Does nae sound too bad, y'whiny sod, we've all been there!"

Aye, aye. Any good bastard has chucked decently after a fitting night of debauchery. But the tragic events occur the next morning.

I was awoken at around 9.00am to the sound of the neighbours hosing down their driveway. They were occasionally spraying my window as if to say "Hey, wake up!" I followed their orders and after gathering my thoughts realised their means; I had failed to find a vessel for me to chuck into and instead opted to open my window.

The window leads out onto their driveway.

It couldn't have been pretty.

It soon became all too apparent that the gentle splashings of "Hey, wake up!" were in actuality the violent lashings of "Hey, fuck you!" I pulled the blankets over my face and hid from the hangover and the neighbours.
I awoke properly a few hours later, and the guilt of my act had only manifested into a mega-hangover. I knew I had to apologise, but was far too weak to do so in person. So, created an image of apology in photoshop and hoped that the mild-humour and sincere apology would heal the wounds I had created. I stuck the picture to my window facing out to the neighbours, and awaited their response.

This photo has been reversed for your reading pleasure

"Wow, you're a bit of a twat."

It took until around 6.00pm for their response to materialise. It's something that I hold as a bit of a trophy today.

But how did they find my secret hideout?!

Beaming brightly from the outside of my window was this lovely reply of
"I understand but very hurtful!
Next time I call police.
I know where you live..."
Like I said, I quickly took this from outside of the window as a trophy before it was either gone to the elements or the neighbour's retracted their acceptance of my apology. It puzzles me as to whether the threat is legitimate or nae, but regardless it's still a funny scenario and one that I will proudly look back on as a lesson of how nae to be an utter twat. After having a wee chuckle (with utter respect, of course) at the letter I spent the rest of the night making delicious choc-banana muffins. Mayhaps I'll drop some off to the neighbours as a goodwill gesture next time I get baking.

Don't follow in my footsteps, peeps.

Much love!

- Nick