Dear neighbour
Dear cretinous French bird,
I understand you are a neighbour of mine - I saw you yesterday being all la-dee-da and oooh dahling with another French national outside next door at about 7pm last night. It's always lovely to get a bit of international flavour in my Glasgow neighbourhood but let's be fair, I am not interested in indulging in French nuances at three thirty am on a weeknight.
I thought you looked like a bit of a knob-jockey at 7pm wot with your back-combed, bottle blonde hair and pink plastic rimmed sunglasses (why?) but decided to reserve judgement. However, it seems my first estimation was right on the money and you are a perfect example of banality, insipidness and inbreeding. Your picture should go next to the word "fuckwit" in the Oxford English dictionary.
Next time you feel it fitting to squawk in your ridiculous French accent outside my bedroom window please don't do it at three thirty am on a weeknight. In fact, don't do it ever. I'd like to think that you would consider that you live in a residential area. However, it seems you prefer to think that nobody has a life other than yourself and your beer-swilling, fagend-encrusted mates. I am sure your wasted friends were spellbound by your incessant banshee-like drunken ramblings but I can assure you that every other person who actually has to get up for work in the morning would rather you curled up and died. Painfully.
Thanks to you and your utterly moronic dipshit pals, I went without a single wink of sleep last night and have had to endure a full day at work with eyes like pissholes in the snow. It's not much fun trying to meet deadlines and be "productive" when you don't know your arse from your elbow due to sleep deprivation. But I suppose you're pretty familiar with these feelings seeing as your face most probably gets mistaken for a scrotum on a regular basis.
If there's a next time you feel it fitting to loiter outside my window prostitute style, your drunken French tinged verbal diahorrea will be plugged by my crusty french baton of a fist in your face, you absolute COW.
Also, I hope that bloke you kissed goodbye gave you a cold sore. You deserve it you boot.
Yours sincerely,
Your friendly next-door neighbour
I understand you are a neighbour of mine - I saw you yesterday being all la-dee-da and oooh dahling with another French national outside next door at about 7pm last night. It's always lovely to get a bit of international flavour in my Glasgow neighbourhood but let's be fair, I am not interested in indulging in French nuances at three thirty am on a weeknight.
I thought you looked like a bit of a knob-jockey at 7pm wot with your back-combed, bottle blonde hair and pink plastic rimmed sunglasses (why?) but decided to reserve judgement. However, it seems my first estimation was right on the money and you are a perfect example of banality, insipidness and inbreeding. Your picture should go next to the word "fuckwit" in the Oxford English dictionary.
Next time you feel it fitting to squawk in your ridiculous French accent outside my bedroom window please don't do it at three thirty am on a weeknight. In fact, don't do it ever. I'd like to think that you would consider that you live in a residential area. However, it seems you prefer to think that nobody has a life other than yourself and your beer-swilling, fagend-encrusted mates. I am sure your wasted friends were spellbound by your incessant banshee-like drunken ramblings but I can assure you that every other person who actually has to get up for work in the morning would rather you curled up and died. Painfully.
Thanks to you and your utterly moronic dipshit pals, I went without a single wink of sleep last night and have had to endure a full day at work with eyes like pissholes in the snow. It's not much fun trying to meet deadlines and be "productive" when you don't know your arse from your elbow due to sleep deprivation. But I suppose you're pretty familiar with these feelings seeing as your face most probably gets mistaken for a scrotum on a regular basis.
If there's a next time you feel it fitting to loiter outside my window prostitute style, your drunken French tinged verbal diahorrea will be plugged by my crusty french baton of a fist in your face, you absolute COW.
Also, I hope that bloke you kissed goodbye gave you a cold sore. You deserve it you boot.
Yours sincerely,
Your friendly next-door neighbour