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Wheel of Ill Fortune
Right. That’s it. They’ve gone too far.
This morning, relaxing in my thrice-daily bath of slightly diluted vodka, I happened to glance out of the Velux, which usually shows a blameless patch of sky. I couldn’t believe my eyes! – so I made them swear affidavits, and in the presence of a disbarred solicitor they both testified that it was true: during last night the people next door had indeed constructed a full-scale replica of the London Eye on top of their gazebo.
And this, this monstrosity directly overlooks my bathroom, and its passengers can see straight into my bath.
And when I say passengers, I mean hundreds of the brutes, with sketch pads, and cameras, and camcorders. Apparently most of them work for a website called ‘DANGER: These Pix WILL Make You Sick!!!’ I cannot imagine why they think their pitiable punters would feel any interest in my sleek-muscled, classically proportioned body, unless it’s the unborn rhinoceros growing out of my chest that excites them.
I’m going to write to the Council. The man next door has been Chairman of it for the past five years, so I shan’t even need to use a stamp. I’ll show them.
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