Remember that time I was in an episode of Neighbours At War?
Full disclosure; I was the awful neighbour. It’s true. I was. I did terrible things. And for the viewers I even took part in a re-enactment of one of my more dreadful moments.

It’s a long story and apparently one that continues to garner high ratings for the Production Co., so it’s still being replayed on late night telly AROUND. THE. WORLD. Lawd help me.

Synopsis: I lived in an inner city apartment above a furniture shop that had a 10 year lease. The shop became a cafe. The cafe became a nightclub.
Months of wiki wiki doof doof = severe sleep deprivation and I went quite mad. So I declared war on the bar & its patrons.

I was quite inventive and my ability to be badly behaved was magnificent. Highlight or low point (depending on your belief systems) was my storming of the nightclub at 2am, in my jarmies, screaming at all the patrons and waving my arms around like a windmill in a hurricane.

Re-enacted on the show for the viewing pleasure of folks who weren’t there that night.

One night I heated 50c coins in a fry pan then dropped the fiery currency out the window so people waiting in line to get into the club would pick up the money and burn their fingers.
I know. I know. I’m a horrible person.

Or the time I strung speaker stereos to the window sills and blasted Barry Manilow to kill the vibe of patrons.
Ooh, let’s not forget the night I relentlessly flushed the loo so the folks in the courtyard below were serenaded by the sound of ‘sewerage’ through the external pipes

Good times.

Anyway, if you want to know the full story you’ll have to watch the episode. I’ve never seen it. My anticipated nationally televised humiliation lent me to sitting outside drinking straight from the wine bottle, getting utter shtfaced while my friends inside howled with laughter.

So, roll forward to the last few weeks when I was facing moving house. High stress. Some would call it karma but whatevs.
I searched the whole blimmin country to find an affordable house. I learned I could possibly afford to buy a house in Wanganui.

I love Wanganui. I have friends there. Living there would be ok. Security of owning a house and not having to pay rent.
Downsides; away from my medical team, cold weather, moving cross country.

But needs must.

My friends all stepped in and did the inspections and research. I couldn’t get down to see the house. Travel is difficult for me but I made an offer on the property.
I spoke with the agent at length and we emailed back & forth.

Then it happened.

Agent phoned me.
Agent: has the penny dropped? How about the burning hot 50c coins?
Me:
Agent: It’s me. The owner of the bar.

Me:

Agent: yeah, the owner of the bar you stormed into wearing your pyjamas and you screamed at everyone.

Me:

Agent: and then you agreed to do that Neighbours At War show.

Me:

Readers, I did not purchase the property.

And on my death bed I shall continue to utter apologies to the bar owner.

PS: when I came out of my stupor the agent and I laughed and laughed. We laughed at me because quite frankly I deserve nothing less.

Happy Sunday y’all x