The Police came again today around 8AM. Five men, one woman and a van. They knocked on our neighbour's door for a quarter of an hour. Nobody answered, so they left. It's been a week since their first visit, and all they are doing is knocking on the door waiting for someone to give themselves up. Maybe the neighbour didn't hear them: she has odd sleeping patterns (probably to do with the drug-related crime) so she may have been comatose at that ungodly time of the day, and she clearly suffers from hearing problems, as we have ascertained after months and months of loud music-playing at whatever time of the day. She also wasn't born yesterday, and she has been in jail before, so she may be in hiding somewhere, you know, in a basement or under the bed. But she has just left the flat as I type this, so obviously she was in this morning when the police came. Maybe she thought it was Jeovah's Wintesses and chose not to open the door. I am very disappointed, it's definitely not the way it happens in movies. She would be way out in Mexico by now. Update 3.50pm: Neighbour is back with dodgy bloke. Police nowhere in sight.
Update 5.52pm: Neighbour maybe out again. Police have just come back.
Technorati Tagged: Neighbours, or a Life of Crime; Met Police; London Life; You Oughta be in Pictures
3 Kommentare:
sappi che questa cronaca in diretta mi sta prendendo molto.... :)
Woah... Our neighbours are kind of unpleasant (three male children, one of whom is Satan's spawn; manic depressive mother; nice-but-dim father), but as far as I know they have never had the police come knocking on their door. Repeatedly.
Maybe you should turn stool pigeon and call the police when you know she's home!
Ma vivi porta a porta con Amy Winehouse? Come è andata a finire poi?
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