What is it with annoying folks in the world of IT making spurious complaints about me? Having seen off gender fluid, Jew unfriendly, Bidstack owning, libellous moron Mike Turner who oddly reported me to the Old Bill after I exposed him, now it is E an Irish IT chappy who lives up the lane leading to the Welsh Hovel.
Alongside the lane is an area that used to be known as the jungle for that is what it was when we arrived. But I have had the jungle pulled down and started its transformation by planting cherry trees along its edge leading down the road. In a couple of years the lane will be showered with pink blossom in the spring and the jungle will be a wonderful vegetable garden.
But E objected to us pulling down the jungle as it means that one, normally empty, bedroom in his house can now be seen by the folks who live on the far side of the jungle. Shite I guess someone might have to learn to use the curtains before going to bed. Quelle horreur. First world problems eh?
The problem is that the jungle now contains vast piles of bushes, trees and scrub that have been pulled down and yesterday, noting that there was zero wind so the smoke would not blow anywhere, Joshua and I set some of it on fire. I admit the flames were tall, c 20 feet at one point, but it was under control. There were no buildings near and the fire was surrounded by earth and I was there to monitor it.
But E raced out of his house, thirty yards away, shouting angrily. Apparently, because of Coronavirus bonfires are illegal, he said. Actually they are not as I pointed out but E insisted that they were and grabbing his phone said he was calling the Fire Brigade to come and act against me. E disappeared and then a few minutes later came back scurrying up and down the wall shouting that I was adding on more branches. The truth is his fascism and belief that the state should stop me doing anything had just spurred me on to add to my works.
The Fire Brigade did not arrive. The wind did not change. No smoke went near anyone’s house. All other neighbours seem delighted by the work I am doing turning jungle into vegetable patches or orchards, pulling down old sheds and creating new views. But E thinks the state has the right to tell me when I can wipe my arse and how, as an individual I should not be able to shape my own land without community approval. And in this new coronavirus world of 1984 he is not alone: snitching on your neighbour for some imaginary transgression of the Government’s latest diktat has become a national sport.
Okay two IT loons and two emergency service referrals in a week. All I need now is an IT loon to report me to the NHS and I have a hat trick.