XmisterIS
Purveyor of fine nonsense
Here I am, having decided to sit in the peace and quiet of my own home to read Irvin Yalom's "Existential Psychotherapy", a weighty and dense tome of 513 pages, no less, and all sodding morning all I can hear from next door is the infernal banging of the builders who are putting up an extension.
Just as I had found perfect silence, aided by a pair of earplugs, I filled my knickers and was scared half to death by a builder knocking furiously on the window of my study! (standing in my garden!!) I popped out an earplug, opened the window and asked him, "*what* ... izzit?" "Sorry mate, can we put a ladder up to 'ave a bang at the side of the extension? I tried ringin' yer doorbell but yer din' arnsa!"
Suddenly I feel like Basil Fawlty trying to listen to Brahm's third racket ...
Just as I had found perfect silence, aided by a pair of earplugs, I filled my knickers and was scared half to death by a builder knocking furiously on the window of my study! (standing in my garden!!) I popped out an earplug, opened the window and asked him, "*what* ... izzit?" "Sorry mate, can we put a ladder up to 'ave a bang at the side of the extension? I tried ringin' yer doorbell but yer din' arnsa!"
Suddenly I feel like Basil Fawlty trying to listen to Brahm's third racket ...