I'm usually a perfectly calm person. I am not quick to anger. I am a peaceful, tree hugging hippy. Make love... not war. But you know what really, really f'n ***** me to tears? Dogs. I hate them. Actually... that's not quite true... What I really hate is small dogs. Little yappy *******s. Actually, even that isn't quite true. What I really really hate is my next door neighbour's dogs. She has about 15 of the f'n things in a backyard the size of a postage stamp. The little *******s bark and howl all f'n day and all f'n night. When I really think about it, its not even the dogs I hate. Its her. I really hate my next door neighbour. I have never met anyone who has less consideration for others than her. She works at doggie rescue, which is all very admirable but all the ones they can't re-house, you know... the ones with the bad personalities or severe behavioural problems, like, oh I dunno... compulsive barking for example. She brings home. She loves it when they "sing to her", dozy, selfish, stupid &^%$#(*@#()*&@$*&%.
Don't even get me started on our council. Can't do a thing. No one else complains. Main reason being that her other neighbours are grey nomads and are home for about 2 weeks a year and the old lady up the back is 98 and deaf as a post. They tell me there is absolutely nothing they can do.
The only reason I haven't thrown poisoned meat over the fence is that it would rob me of the satisfaction of completely snapping one day, leaping the fence and strangling the little fuckers with my bare hands.
If anyone out there has a .22 and wants to make my problem go away, they might find themselves richer by several cases of whatever I brew next.
Or run over them with a Troopy. Whatever.