Upfront a disclosure – I can be a bit of a bitch when I am tired. Fact. And today I am tired. I am tired and I am bitter and I feel that this post is going to be long, boring tirade about my Nemesis and everyone connected with him so feel free to close the page, go back to your knitting or get out and enjoy some fresh air. Here we go …
I hate my neighbours, I really do. Not the Family, although they drive me nuts and there will no doubt be a post dedicated to one particular SIL shortly (I am just waiting for the current drama to implode and then I can take some photos) but no, today’s rant is about the neighbours behind us, the owner of my current Nemesis.
My mum used to have a saying “if you keep making that face it will stay that way forever” well this particular neighbour obviously never listened to her mother because she always – ALWAYS – has a nasty ass look on her face. She has the crazy eyes and to be honest she freaks me out a little, like I fear retaliation at some point in my future if I say anything against her. But enough is enough.
This morning my fecking Nemesis started his cock-a-fecking-doodle-doo-ing at 3:20 and he has been cock-a-fecking-doodle-doo-ing constantly every 20 minutes although right now he has returned to snoozeville and I am contemplating going down to his coop and yelling cock-a-fecking-doodle-doo in his fecking face!
I want to tell you sleep deprivation is not fecking funny it’s a serious form of torture. I bet it was used at Guantanamo Bay and shite because this is the worst thing you can seriously do to someone. It is worse than a papercut and we all know how much they suck! Let me tell you when my nemesis begins his hellish crow I am dragged kicking and screaming from my dream (no doubt Brad Pitt related) where I awake in darkness, disorientated and with a little bit of the crazy eyes myself. By the time I have resettled and start to return to my ‘50 Shades of Grey’ inspired dream (I have never actually read 50 Shades of Grey but feel that a colouring book with only the colour available can’t be that great. Sorry? What? It’s not a colouring book? My bad) the Nemesis starts again like a record player stuck on Britney Spears, or worse still, Iggy Azalea.
A couple of weeks back an expat buddy told me a story of when she lived in Marmaris and had a similar Nemesis situation so she ‘encouraged’ her Nemesis to move down the street and away from her house. Her Nemesis never returned. I tried this tactic the other morning with My Hurley Dog and I corralling my Nemesis a couple of blocks from our house but my Nemesis seems to have a homing beacon because he fecking beat me home!
Now before you all tell me to ‘Love Thy Neighbour’ and all that shite I did go and speak to her in my limited Turkish and with a big ass smile on my dial. My heart wanted me to go over there and scream blue murder but because of my fear of retaliation and, you know, the crazy eyes, I asked very PG nicely if she could move the coop. In reply I got the crazy eyes, some random yelling that I couldn’t understand and, worse still, she did the ‘tsk’ (you know the ‘tsk’ that awful sound with the head jerk which signifies NO in a uniquely Turkish manner).
I find myself spending my day thinking up ways to punish her and to punish her family and to punish her friends and to punish that fecking cock-a-fecking-doodle-doo rooster of hers. The next time I speak to her it will go a little something like this:
“if you get rid of the rooster now, that’ll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you. But if you don’t, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will kill you”.
Too much? I can’t say this today of course as my Turkish still sucks but if someone could translate it into Turkish then I will study it and then at the appropriate time and at an appropriate distance (ever fearful of the crazy eyes) say it menacingly at her Liam Neeson style.
I may never recover from my current psychological break and if you never hear from me again I have no doubt been dragged off to the looney bin or worse still bitch has gone all crazy eyes on me and I’m probably chicken feed. Ick!
Today The Turk is going to speak to her husband. He won’t speak to her. He is also fearful of the crazy eyes coming at him or maybe finding one of our stray’s heads in our bed in retaliation! Bitch be cray-cray!
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As long as it as your Nemesis’ head, perhaps that would be acceptable? 😦
Know where you’re coming from though. We had 5 chickens, but no rooster, but one morning in the early hours heard one doing the bizz at high volume. We stuck it for a few days, then went next door to ask if she knew of anyone who had recently got one. It was HER! She’d decided to save it from the pie and brought it home to keep her peacock company (Yes, you read that right, peacock), who wasn’t actually impressed and sulked in the corner of its cage. This woman had previously got angry at us when we disposed of (read shot) rats and mice in our garden to stop them coming in the house (she with 7 cats, and not one was a mouser and they never went outside).
Anyway, old Cocky Face (and the rooster) continued to annoy us saying ‘What did you expect, you live in the country!’ and shut the door on us.
We decided to check out rules and regulations for keeping chickens/roosters in residential properties (Hubby wanted to go next door when she was out and show it his latest rifle ammunition), and a week or so later composed a very nice letter to the council asking for their guidance.
Before dropping it in the mail, we had noticed though it was now very quiet next door, and on seeing her in the garden, asked if she still had the rooster. To which she replied:
‘No, the damn thing was keeping me awake at night, so we got rid of it’.
Hubby asked if the pie was nice and she shuddered. Oh no, we couldn’t do that, she said, and apparently they’d given it back to the farmer! Hubs said he could have saved her the journey (and we would have had a very nice pie thank you very much!)
OK, this is what you do – get yourself some fishing line; thread on some maize an inch or so apart with a knot below each seed. Cast it in to the offenders area of operations and let him gobble down the lot before reeling him in. Wring his neck, bleed him and save the blood. Then tear off the head and neck, feet and skin and feathers. Mash the neck a bit with a hammer for effect. Then, whilst the flesh is cooking, pop out and scatter dead bits and blood somewhere away from your place. If asked you can blame another neighbour’s (who you don’t like – bound to be several more) dog or wolf/fox/jackal/lynx/marten for the slaughter. If you really want to get psycho about it you can send a small portion with mixed veg and gravy to your neighbour by way of commiserations. Or, to quote J who has just looked over my shoulder at what I’m writing ‘She should get some bloody ear plugs and recognise that she lives in a village!).
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Oh bloody hell!
And yes J we live in a village but this woman has no land at all the nemesis and its women are living on the walkway between their house and our School! Crazy!!!
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keep focussed – coq au vin; coq au vin!
If she loses her rooster she might buy a donkey. When the donkey moves in you’ll wish for the rooster back. I sleep with BBC radio 4/ works service in both ears all night –
I remember backpacking around Oz and we visited a place named Glen Helen Gorge in NT. Wild donkeys were boinking all night! Crazy sounds like truck colliding or something!
I think they are having a sale at the Ammo Shop on AK47 rifles, fricassé the nemesis and serve it to the neighbours. Problem solved, no need to thank me.
I do so empathise with you, and I feel for you. But thanks for sharing. It was a fun read. Best of luck with casting out the rooster and hopefully crazy eyes.
Ah this is really painful!!! And I don’t know which one’s more annoying – the rooster or the “tsk” in a Turkish manner… Hope her husband will be more reasonable 🙂
How about recording the sound of an ass braying loudly, be prepared for a few sleepless nights and play the recording as loudly as possible as closely as possible to old mad eyes as soon as they go to bed? And replay it every 10/15 minutes? Be competition for the rooster too! And they could hardly blame you now could they because you don’t have am ass?
I suggested that every time the fecking rooster cock-fecking-doodle-do’s I open the balcony door and yell it at the top of my lungs. That should get a reaction.
The Turk said no. Party pooper 😝
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The top cock will always fret about his harem so unless you’re going to take the Alan route for a nice Sunday roast and all the trimmings, I’d do what Annie does (though I’d chuck in some happy pills too)! 😀
Sorry to hear about your neighbor’s cock (I just had to write that). It’s enough to make you want to have an automatic system that starts playing metallica when the cock crows. 🙂
He’s still driving me nuts you know. This morning he sounded like he had a bit of a hangover it was low and croaky. Maybe he has the flu. Bird flu. Fingers crossed that’s what he has and his days are numbered. I’m pretty sure The Turk is going to kill him soon.
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I take it that the man-t0-man talk between your husband and the man next door didn’t go well?
It seems to me that if the cock-a-doodle-doodoo doesn’t stop soon, someone is going to go insane. If that happens, they’ll be worse things happening than fowl play.
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Ha ha haaa….OK…get the earplugs out!
Listen..I’ve been putting up with BKH’s and Bundy’s snoring for years….YEARS!
I sympathise, I REALLY do! However, unless you’re willing to spend quality time in the slammer, I suggest you get earplugs, because the only way you’re going to get a decent nights sleep, without ear-bungs, is by murdering that frickin’ cock!
Ha ha haaaa….😂👍
Been there done that with the earplugs. This guy has supersonic lungs. You could hear him clearly over front row seats at a Guns & Roses concert!
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