A recent writing exercise gave me a first line — “They’re doing it again; I can hear them through the walls” — and asked me where it went then.
This is where mine went.
They’re doing it again. I can hear them through the walls. It’s been months now and nothing’s been done about it. It really isn’t good enough. Honest, hard-working, decent people shouldn’t be subjected to this sort of outrage. I just don’t need it. But the council won’t do anything. They say it’s not their remit. The police just laugh at me. I even rang the local radio station but they wouldn’t put me through.
I think it’s a disgrace. I pay my taxes: I’m entitled to have someone put a stop to this. But even our useless MP won’t listen; though what can you expect from one of that lot? Well, I’ve had enough. If no-one else will listen, I’ll have to bring out the big guns. They had their chance. They could’ve stopped it before it came to this, but they chose not to. Well, be it on their own heads. They’ve no-one to blame but themselves. I wouldn’t do this if I weren’t driven to it. Now, where’s my pen?
“Dear… Daily… Mail…“