Saturday, 9 July 2011

Just Another Friday Night In Langley Mill

I say Langley Mill, it's most likely happening across the entire country in varying degrees but I can only moan from my point of view.

It's no secret what I think about Langley Mill .... I have described it as a sh*t hole in a previous post - I'm not about to alter my opinion on the place or a fair few of it's scummy inhabitants - and if the cap fits ...

Last night was yet another reason to intensely dislike the place a tidgy bit more.

A group of youngish teenagers went grunting past with their usual caveman finesse, I couldn't hear what was being said and I wasn't trying to listen, they may even been comparing kn*b sizes as there was much jollity. Where do their parents think they are? The old trick of saying they're staying over at so and so's, I suppose. Don't parents check or indeed care?

I was woken abruptly by what I took to be next door's cat screaming in pain ... this is guaranteed to get me out of bed in a flash. It turned out to be four drunken witches returning home after a night out via Chavsda [yes Asda, you've earned the name]. There were two of these mad bints straight across from us - one using her phone, both clutching their Chavsda bags - screeching at the other two to 'HURRY UP!! ...YOU'RE TAKING THE P*SS!!'

I noticed whilst looking upon this veritable tragic display of young womanhood, the completely invisible Chavsda delivery lorry waiting at the gates to be let in - remember they don't have deliveries in the night [according to one of their security men].

The ladylike reply to the - so far - one sided conversation came a few minutes later when I went to check through the back bedroom window on their somewhat staggering progress ... 'WAIT FOR US, YOU SCREECH, SCREECH $%*%%' - lovely. My annoyance was then made complete when I trod on the foot of the fan that some complete di**khead had left in my way - bending back a previously broken toe ... ouch!

I limped dramatically back to bed and woke grumpy up - I was awake ... this entitles me to make sure anyone in my immediate vicinity is equally awake. Then I explained in great detail why I was awake ... yes, feeling better already - a grievance shared and all that.

SQUUUUEEEEEEEEEAAAAAK, clatter ... SQUUUUEEEEEEEEEAAAAAK! And yes, Asda's delivery gates still haven't been oiled - wa****s!

SQUAWK, SQUAWK, SQUAWK, SQUAWK - lorry reversing, presumably because the driver had driven up to the bell on the gate to announce is arrival - rather than get off his ar*e and walk to it. BRRRRRRMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM ... SQUAWK, SQUAWK, SQUAWK, SQUAWK - lorry reversing again. SQUUUUEEEEEEEEEAAAAAK, clatter ... SQUUUUEEEEEEEEEAAAAAK! - gates closed. Bang, boom, crash, bang, rattle  - the lorry was emptied.


Peace at last - yeah right.

A relationship ended - hopefully ... It didn't end quietly - no such luck, there was much bellowing along the lines of ... from him - 'YOU AND ME ... WE'RE FINISHED!'... from her - 'Wah, wah'. This went on in the same vein for a good fifteen minutes, mostly him telling her why they were finished, interspersed with a bit of sobbing and a lot of effin.

Gobby teenagers passed by again ... see the bit above.


Asda delivery ... you know the routine by now - but this was somewhat overshadowed by someone down the street going on holiday and loudly announcing every item placed in the car. By this time I didn't really care and probably wouldn't even be awake if I wasn't already thoroughly disgruntled and determined to wake up at the drop of a hat - although I don't recall hearing a single train.

Yawn ...

My GOM - who told them at Chavsda this afternoon about their bloody gates for the fourth time - had a worse night, but that's for another post ... I'll just say that I wasn't grumpy the entire night and I still keep tittering to myself ...


  1. Although, I don't have the ASDA problem here (its 5 miles away), I used to get all the local yoofs & totty wending their way home late at night. They probably still do - it's just that now, I don't hear them.
    I moved my bed into the back room and, on Saturday nights, stuff my ears with Boots finest earplugs!
    Perfect. Zzzzzzzzzzzz.

  2. Hi Bernard,
    Unfortunately for us, it wouldn't make any difference if we slept in the back bedroom as the same footpath goes past there to finally arrive at a recreation ground directly opposite where gobby 'yoofs'[I like that] can be found playing football and shouting at 4.00am.

    Earplugs ... oooh, no, I'd be frightened of missing something to be grumpy about. lol


Be nice, I'm very sensitive.