The coppers, the first I'd seen wandering purposefully around my manor since I'd moved in, were actually there to arrest someone else.
Thus, the outcome of my speaker destruction was a success, of sorts. No police seem to have been contacted, and despite my neighbour's landlord being made aware of his door being broken down, even that doesn't seem to be going any further. Whether or not my neighbour decides to blast out music at ridiculous hours remains to be seen. Becuase he is that stupid.
So that's that. Don't fuck with me; I'm a Geezer.
In further news, my mate Suki who I didn't realise reads this journal of shit, was kind enough to copy and paste Tuesday's post below into an email and circulate it to a wider circle of friends. Cue lots of emails (well, two), calling me an egotistical twat.
Here's a picture of my good friend Suki below.
Sadly, this picture doesn't show him receiving a cucumber suppository whilst he observes with interest, also out of shot, the young pert nakedness of a trio of Soho rentboys dancing solely for his sick pleasure in a cheap King's Cross bedsit.
Regarding my speaker escapade, for all those who have commented and emailed your concerns, thank you.