The previous holder of the title of the scruffiest neighbour had previously been held by The Scruff’s neighbour. Pacman, as he was christened spent the working day in front of a computer in the box room (to which he laughingly referred to as “The Study”!!!) Generally, I was just aware of a hair line and the dome of a forehead, that is until the weather warmed. The Study (!!) windows were thrown open and he conducted very loud phone calls in the irritating manner of people using mobile phones on public transport. You know the sort – the ones that want us all to know that they are ON THE TRAIN.
I have to say that when I actually saw him, in full frontal mode, so to speak, in the garden that he wasn’t at all how I imagined he would look from the forehead down. Suffice to say he was less George Clooney and more “man at Greggs”.
He lived with his hefty wife and daughter (Little Pac). He may or may not have been the natural father of Little Pac as another bizarre observation I have made is that the children appear to change on a fortnightly basis. It’s common to see a car arrive on a Friday and for a child(ren) to emerge with a bag and then take the place of the previous children (who have gone to one of their other parents) for the weekend.
Little Pac always remained resident but periodically a boy arrived (Pacboy). I don’t suppose he was popular with Mrs Pac and Little Pac as he was noisy, boisterous and most probably bored. The sort of kid that hasn’t an ounce of common sense and will no doubt soon be appearing on “You’ve Been Framed” carrying out some act of gross stupidity. I do remember he was a dirty little kid who urinated on the fence rather than go indoors – earning him the name Peeboy.
When they vacated they left everything much as you see in the photo (they did take the ketchup!) Grass had grown up the legs of the legs of the rusted barbecue and the trampoline, long wrecked by Pacboy was left as general junk in the garden. These people always expect someone else to clean up their mess.
Barbecues it would seem, for the majority of the residents encompass nothing more than shop bought frozen burgers/sausages encased between a cheap white bread roll and eaten on the hoof in between swigs of beer/pop and blue WKD.
That house is also rented and so the landlord’s gardener and wife had a mammoth task to tidy it up and make it more habitable for the next occupants – The Fangs.
Coming Next – “Mr Scruff and his Tangoed Chopper”