The Undesirables Have Arrived oh joy

Some simply charming people have moved in across the hall from me.

This is a really quiet building (apart from the woman who stomps down the stairs at 7.30 every morning, wearing what appear to be horse's shoes then almost takes the front door of its hinges when she slams it shut).  Or at least it used to be until The Undesirables moved in recently.

Now I was actually sound asleep but P reported to me that one night Mr Undesirable was having a massive argument with Mrs Undesirable and was storming around the communal area shouting and swearing  (NB right outside my front door) in the middle of the night.  He was slamming doors so violently that all my windows and doors were shaking.  P described him as a 'Scary Big Fucker'. The next time I saw Mrs Undesirable she was nailing the door frame back on.

At 1.30am last Thursday morning I was rudely awoken by shouting and large scuffling noises coming from the hall. I got up and had a look through the spyhole in my front door and saw Mr Undesirable lying prone, handcuffed and being restrained by 2 police officers who were asking him to calm down.  He meanwhile was charmingly responding with 'I ain't done anything. Get your knee out of my back, She's an internet whore she'll be on the internet now, she's been in a mental institution, take me to court!'  This went on for half an hour.

Which was lovely.

The only thing between me and him was 2 inches of front door.

Then he passed out.  The police waited for 2 of their colleagues to help carry him out of the building.

Yesterday evening (after I had made damn sure I had the local police station number in my phone) I heard him and one of his delightful friends come into the building.  They were both pissed and each had a carrier bag full of more booze. During the 15 minutes it took them to manage to open the door they had the following conversation:

I hate this fucking dump [hmm I would like to point out that it was perfectly fine before you moved in], I hate this fucking country am going to leave [here's your hat where's your hurry], him next door gives us no help [hardly surprising], he doesn't understand alcoholics [shame on him!], blah blah blah de blah.

Lovely.  At the moment I am reading a book called 'Stuart a Life Backwards' which is the story of Stuart who was a homeless, drug addicted alcoholic.  Its like having him live next door except Stuart seemed 100% more pleasant. 

The freeholder has been informed so things should now become quite interesting...