The man up the lane

Apropos my last post, maybe I should introduce more fully the man up the lane. I shall not name him for fear of repercussions (and he does a good line in repercussions). So for the purposes of this post, I shall call him M (but not in a James Bomd way).

M is.....different. Most of us feel that he's not quite ....well, not quite. But his long-suffering neighbour - a gentle, charitable man - says "he's just a very nasty man". I tend to agree.

M shouts. He shouts a lot. He becomes much exercised over what he sees as minor breaches of the law (untaxed cars, bad driving etc). His inner policeman is forever on the lookout for such eventualities. And then he shouts. He can be heard several doors away (us). He wears an official looking fluorescent jacket to add gravitas to his diatribes.

M has a bad knee. Because of this, he has contrived to get himself a blue disabled parking badge, and his own disabled parking space outside his house. This has cause much ill feeling among the rest of us because (a) he can walk as well as I can, and (b) most of us have to park in the same street, and  parking round here is very difficult. This parking space is, however, a courtesy one, and not legally binding. If other drivers encroach on it, which they are entitled to do, he shouts.

(Later) M has just missed a treat. I've just returned from the shops to find a policeman arresting a man  and his bicycle. With real handcuffs.  This kind of thing is meat and drink to M. I feel almost sorry for him. Almost.

But M does have his uses. If there is dog mess in the lane, he will warn (shout) about it. He will even arrange a barricade of wheelie bins around it as a warning. He gets a small Brownie point for this. But that is the only thing he does for anyone (as far as I know).

 I've tried to be nice about/to M, but my patience is wearing thin. Watch this space.