I may have mentioned that I have weird neighbours. If you consider the Nigerian crime lords; the religious nuts; and the serial killer next door, you might be forgiven for thinking that the song ‘Neighborhood‘ by Space was penned for the area where I live.
Lately, I have been bothered by mysterious, silent vibrations emanating from one of the flats downstairs. If you can imagine someone with their sound system turned up to maximum, but with only the sub-woofer plugged in, it will give you an idea. At first, I thought it was someone with their sound system turned up to maximum but with only… yes, well now I’m not so sure. Actually, I think it’s high time Occam got a new razor.
I suspect the vibrations are caused by the old woman downstairs. I think she warps space with her arse. You see, the other morning as I left for work, I saw her getting her washing off the line. She’s as thin as a stick with clothes to match, but her bloomers (and they can only be described as such) were ENORMOUS. ‘Capacious’, ‘tent-like’ and ‘voluminous’ also spring to mind. How she manages to fit those things around her bony backside without foundering in a fountain of fabric can only be explained if her bum exists in multiple dimensions. QED.