I don’t know if i’ve ever mentioned our neighbour before? I have started calling him “Prod” because it rhymes with his name and it just seems altogether more appropriate for the lecherous old twerp.
When we moved in, Prod took it upon himself to come over and tell us that the previous owners used to park one car on the drive and one on the road, which made it very difficult for him to get out of his drive so he was pleased to see our car on the driveway. Frankly Prod, if you can’t get out on to the road because our car is parked there, you shouldn’t be driving. He also takes it upon himself to come over and direct David on how to cut the grass. Prod, i’ll tell you now, we have young kids, we don’t give a shit if the lawn has stripes, we’re not hosting Wimbledon on our front lawn, we just want the job done. Not to mention, my Mother in Law came down when we were on holiday to trim our hedge (BLESS HER). Prod apparently came ambling over to ask her how much she charges. HA! I believe she told him she was the Mother, not the gardener. He then said something along the lines of ‘Oh well, that’s decent of you.’
She replied ‘Well it’s one less job on their list of things to do, they have young kids and David works long hours so it’s hard to find time to do these jobs.’
‘Well you MAKE TIME for these things.’ says Prod. What a twat.
‘I see now why you dislike him’ my MIL said to me later.
Not only all this but in that first conversation we had with him, he dissed Merv (his next door neighbour, our directly opposite neighbour). You can’t diss Merv, Merv is awesome, he gives us fruit and veg from his garden and he brings my bin in for me on bin day. More people should be like Merv.
These things are minor though, compared to last year when I bumped into Prod when I was out on a walk:
‘I thought I recognised that bottom.’ he said to me.
Well reader, I nearly vomited all over him. I went home to David like I was Trump ‘WE’RE GOING TO BUILD A WALL!’ I said, miming a massive wall with my arms ‘ WE’RE GOING TO BUILD A YUGE WALL TO KEEP THE PERVERTS OUT!’
‘What the fuck are you talking about now?’ David said, completely nonplussed.
‘That pervert over the road is looking at my bottom every time I go out there. That’s IT, i’m not cutting the bloody grass out there anymore, he’s watching me! He’s looking at my bum! I don’t even feel like I can lean in to the car to strap the kids in anymore because he’s LOOKING AT MY BUM THE FILTHY OLD PERV!’
‘What? But isn’t he like 80?!”
‘Bit ageist darling, he’s still a person but WHY CAN’T HE PERV ON HIS WIFE AND NOT ME!’
‘That’s disgusting, how dare he, you’re mine, he’s not allowed to look at your arse, that’s my arse, it belongs to me!’
‘ACTUALLY it’s MY ARSE, IT BELONGS TO ME! GIVEN THAT IT IS ATTACHED TO ME! I’m actually confused because generally people stare at my tits! (In fairness, it’s hard not to, they’re just THERE).’
‘Well yes alright but… anyway, maybe i’ll go over and say ‘Oi Prod. Stop looking at my wife’s bum and for God’s sake, button up your shirt, I don’t want to look at your gut when you’re out gardening.’
Shudder. Anyway, I lament this invasion of my privacy on Facebook, as you do and then I think nothing more of it for a couple of weeks, UNTIL, I bump into a friend’s Mum who lives on the street and knows of Prod.
‘Oh he’s terrible’ she says ‘known for it. Apparently he and his wife were swingers back in their day.’
I am agog at this new piece of information. I relay this to my Mother.
‘Ooh does he have pampas grass growing out the front of his house?!’ she says, between hoots of laughter.
‘Er no, he has a perfect Floral Gardens type garden but the house next door to him does so what does that mean?!’ (N.B. I don’t know if you know of Floral Gardens but my Mum and her sisters had it when they were growing up and I got to play with it at my grandparents’ house; think rockeries, think crazy paving, think designing your own tiny garden out of tiny plastic flowers and shiz, it’s truly marvellous).
‘Well, in the 70’s if you had pampas grass growing outside your house it was to signify that you were up for swinging/wife swapping/shenanigans.’
‘I don’t want to know how you know this Mother but the thought of Prod and his shenanigans has made my mind vomit all over itself and explode all at the same time.’
‘Oh don’t worry! It’s just one of those things that people know, it’s not from personal experience.’
Well thank Fuck for that then.
Decide that I will have to wear a burqa or wrap myself in a duvet or SOMETHING every time I go outside the house. UGH.
I don’t have to deal with Prod again for a while until recently, we acquired another car. Now when I say car, think of a Smart car, now halve that and THAT’S ABOUT THE SIZE OF OUR SECOND CAR. Now I have to say, it is a FAFF to switch the cars around, so David has taken to parking the TEENY TINY car out on the road at the weekends so that we can ferry the kids about in the family mobile without having to switch the cars. There are no double yellow lines, we are ALLOWED. But no, oh no no no. Prod takes umbrage with this. Prod who is not going bloody anywhere, apart from on some pervpatrol probably.
David is out cutting the grass (not to Prod’s exact specifications I might add but that’s another matter). Prod comes ambling over and says ‘Now David, I hope you don’t take offence but would you mind not parking the car there as it makes it very difficult for me to get my car out.’
David looks at him and says ‘If my car is ever blocking you in, please just come and give me a knock and i’ll happily move it you FUCKING PERVERTED FUCKWIT (he doesn’t say that last bit but I WISH HE HAD).’
A few days later, i’m heading out to school with Tom in the pram. As usual, i’m running late. Prod is out on the street, perhaps he’s touting for business… anyway, he comes over from his side.
‘Hi Prod, i’m actually just heading to school and i’m running late…’
‘I won’t be a minute. I just want to say that I do hope you weren’t offended by my asking David not to park his car there.’
I decide that acting nonplussed is the best way to go about this.
‘I’m sorry, i’m not sure what you’re talking about. I really have to get goi…’
‘Well I asked David not to park there as it makes it difficult for me to get out of my drive.’
‘I really don’t know, he hasn’t mentioned anything to me’ i.e. you are not important enough to feature in our conversations, get the message PROD.
‘Oh well, I….’
‘Look Prod, i’m sorry but i’m late to get to school, as I said, I have to GO’
And I half walk/half run off down the road.
Well reader, the most wonderful thing has happened: Prod has started blanking me.