Low Key Nemeses [LKN]

I’m visiting Auld Ma Ruffs and reminded of the LKN that lives over the road. Was in my year in school and now owns his own house (boo) with 2 kids, uber Tory, also complained unsuccessfully when I won a poetry prize in the Eisteddfod seventeen years ago so FUCK HIM TBH.

Was just bumbling about with my guitar there, when we had a moment of awkward eye contact as he was popping out for a jog. Still shuddering.

You?

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LKN: all of you fucks if you leave this King of a thread to become a zero replier

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which one are you?

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The woman who lives further down my street who seems to like me very much but I avoid her. She suddenly swerves in conversation to discuss in great graphic detail how various relatives died in gruesome ways.

I genuinely don’t know if these things actually happened and she’s quite shaken up or if she just makes it up. I can’t actually remember her name either, I try to keep conversations to a pleasant hello.

There’s clearly something pretty wrong there but it’s a bit much when you’re just putting the bins out or something.

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She also has a really really loud voice so if she’s talking outside I can hear every word she says if the windows are open.

Worryingly she told me she works running outward bound courses. I have no idea if this is true or not.

The woman I sometimes play tennis with who laughs whenever someone does a lob or the ball bounces close to the line. So bizarre

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Various posh people who frequent my shop.

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Was she a line judge in Djokovitch’s match by any chance?

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oh yeah, just in general.

‘the customers’

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This guy who runs a load of cafes and stuff on the high street closest me

I got into a row with a driver who knocked a guy off his bike and he got involved and was all weird and aggressive and kept tapping me on the shoulder and I can’t tell if he remembers but I do :grinning:

that fucking pheasant

(which I haven’t seen in ages, thankfully)

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Probably heard about the new lockdown rules.

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local galician wanker who won’t shut up about really boring stuff that no one cares about.

Swans and geese. All of them, as a collective.
Apart from George and Hilda.
The rest of them though, nasty bunch.

Twentynine

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There’s this bit of the Taff near my house where the river gets so shallow the Swans just sort of stand there like twats/Milhouse when his bedroom’s flooded.

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What was the nature of his complaint?

I hope you laugh in their stupid beaky faces and make them feel really small and embarrassed

Claimed it wasn’t a poem! It was a poem. It was kind of long, but it was a poem.

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the person I knew in college who went to private school and all that but chose to live in anarchist squats. they also couldn’t clap in time, which I later found out was due to their dyscalculia, but that did not soften my heart

they also had a mowhawk which they’d DIY dye loads of different colours, and there was always loads of dye stains on their otherwise bare skull

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