Right, time to come back atchya with a bitch and a moan. Maybe it’s because I’m very hungover and grumpy on a dark and wet Friday evening, but today finds me in fine spleen-venting fettle, so prepare for an extremely personal and heartfelt top five – in reverse order – of the most irritating noise polluters in Barcelona.
…or c@ntmobiles at they should be called. It’s pretty obvious that every asshole that rides one of these penis-compensators is so absolutely attention-starved (no friends at school?) that they need to let the whole world know whenever they and their big fat noisy engine are leaving the house – as if somehow their life will become meaningful if they are able to disturb the entire neighbourhood whenever popping out for the groceries. Easily the most selfish, narcissistic and pathetically macho mobiles ever invented, motorbikes and their owners would probably feature higher on this list if it wasn’t for the fact that every time I am disturbed by one of these thundering dildo riders I get a grim satisfaction from knowing that one day they are going to have a serious and painful injury that will scar them for life. It’s called karma.
4) German karaoke
The general concept of karaoke, as far as I can tell, is to take a song that makes you want to sand your testicles off, with a cheese grater, and then make it EVEN MORE EXCRUCIATING by letting a bunch of drunken talentless gimps howl the chorus behind time and murder the verses with embarrassingly inaccurate versions of the actual lyrics. Imagine when this audio horror is translated to the world’s most cantankerous language and even the best tracks on the playlist make Wet Wet Wet’s Love Is All Around seem like Mozart’s 5th Symphony. Dante would need to update his Inferno. Again I would probably place German karaoke higher, but any torture enforced by those lovely hot-pant-wearing (ex)housemates of mine is alleviated by reminiscing on their luscious legs parading about the house. All is forgiven girls!
It’s one thing to be disturbed by your housemates, but at least they pay the rent and contribute to the bills, and you can tell them “shut the f@ck up you inconsiderate bastard, it’s 5 o’clock in the morning and I have to be up at noon tomorrow.” Guests on the other hand are another matter. Yes, technically speaking, one of your idiotic housemates, in a poorly judged show of human decency, probably invited in said guest(s) thereby giving them some kind of license to be in your personal space… but nonetheless (and please read this carefully should you ever find yourself in my house) YOU DON’T FUCKING LIVE HERE SO DON’T YOU DARE DISTURB ME FOR ONE MILLISECOND OR I’M GONNA STICK THIS PIECE OF SHIT SOLAR PANNELLED LED LAMP I BOUGHT FROM IKEA FOR 17 EUROS WHICH COULDN’T LIGHT UP A BARREL AND STICK IT UP YOUR RECTUM TO SEE IF AT LEAST IT WILL LIGHT UP YOUR @SS.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!! Pretty much my all time pet hatred. It’s soul sapping. There’s just nothing you can do. The drilling, the hammering, the squealing, the whining, it cuts through everything, vibrates in the walls, through your bed, oscillating through your ear plugs right into your skull, where it continues to bash your soporofic brain forcing you against all your instincts to get up… except you can’t. It’s 8am in the morning and you were watching back to back episodes of Game of Thrones until 5:23am and now your dead body, assaulted whilst defenseless in the depths of REM sleep, is caught in a limbo of sonar sufferance, unable to move or break free. You just lie there willing, begging, praying for the drilling to stop. And sometimes it does. Just for a few minutes… just enough for your body to return to a blissful comatose state, before the inexorable inevitable inhuman noise starts up again even louder than before.
1) Ex-Housemate’s Heavy Metal
It’s one issue when something impersonal annoys you, no matter how irritating it is, such as a bunch of yellow jacketed bozos ripping up the road with pneumatic drills. You can go and let them know what you think of their work, but ultimately it’s their job and there probably is at least a half decent reason they’re raising hell at unsociable hours of the morning – and the fact is they’d probably rather be in bed too. It doesn’t help you get any work done, or alleviate your sleep deprivation. It doesn’t change the basic situation that their activity is directly effecting your productivity – and therefore costing you money, as well as stress and annoyance. However somehow you grimace and bear it. Imagine now the very same level of decibels, the same relentless barrage of sound, the same tidal waves of audio terror, directed at you not by some government regulated force conducting necessary public works, but inflicted regularly and knowingly on you by your very own housemate. Then it becomes personal. I mean what the f@ck?!?!? I tried to reason with her. I told her about these new-fangled inventions called earphones that would enable her to listen to whatever she wanted to 24 hours a day without hearing a single complaint for me. I tried to explain that, as well as myself, the neighbours may not appreciate being told what to listen to and when to listen to it on a daily basis… and that in the same way no one appreciates being forced to look at, smell, taste or touch something they didn’t choose to (and you can in fact be locked up for some of these), neither do we, the poor people who live within her speaker range, want to listen to something we didn’t choose to at a time we didn’t want to it. It was ongoing and willful audio rape. The fact that 90% of her music sucked @ss was actually even besides the point, except perhaps that the excessive BPM of her playlists made the noise yet more painful to endure. Despite several well-reasoned showdowns nothing changed. When faced with someone so excessively stubborn and selfish as this, you really only have two options. Poison their cornflakes or move out…
Now, does anyone have any tips on paving over a patio?