For the attention of the chap performing '(Can Anybody Find Me) Somebody To Love' by Queen outside the window at 1am.
Dear Sir,
Thank you for serenading me from the street as I slumbered last night. Your all-guns-blazing rendition of Queen's hit Somebody To Love certainly got my attention.
However. There are a few areas that I feel we should address before your next drunken lunge down my road.
First of all, have you considered singing lessons? You certainly have a mighty pair of lungs on you, but you lack control. I'm afraid that simply bellowing will not summon the enviable power of Freddie Mercury's vocal from beyond the pop/rock grave. If I were Simon Cowell, Louis Walsh or even the lovely Sharon Osbourne, it's likely I would comment that the song didn't really show off your talents. And to be honest, as I have not worked closely with you in a mentoring capacity in my LA mansion, Spanish villa or Dublin flat, I am not entirely sure where exactly your talents lie.
The second point is the time you chose for your performance. 1am is a pretty big slot to fill. Shit-faced street warblers are ten a penny, but in my opinion, if you're going to wreck somebody's kip, it's only fair to put on a right f*cking corker of a show. Tuneless yelling and yelping is far more endearing at around 11.30pm, when folk are scrubbing teeth and will peer down from behind their blinds, affectionately muttering 'tosser' before reaching for the Listerine. Also, the day. I could forgive your uncontrolled and frankly shoddy rendition on a Friday or Saturday - hopefully I wouldn't even be in. But Sunday night/Monday morning? Come on, mister. Waking up and realising it's Monday is heartbreaking enough, without the added misery of having only dropped off three hours previously because some pissed-up arse elected to 'hilariously' shriek out a classic pop chart release during a critical stage of the REM cycle, condemning everyone in the street to several distressing hours listening to the bastard central heating GURGLING, why does it gurgle like that for pity's sake?
So yeah, maybe a Friday would be better.
My third point... what was my third point. Yes. It is my choice to rest my head in the vicinity of bars. But I don't mind a bit of good-natured bawdy banter from the streets below. In fact, I feel it lends a certain carnival atmosphere. However, you, you and that bloke who repeatedly shouted "Oi-oi! Oi-oi! Oi-oi! Oi-oi! Oi, Darren! Oi-oi!" on Saturday night, you people really should just SIMMER DOWN and piss of back to Kent. Losers.
Thank you,
Lizzie
Thank you for serenading me from the street as I slumbered last night. Your all-guns-blazing rendition of Queen's hit Somebody To Love certainly got my attention.
However. There are a few areas that I feel we should address before your next drunken lunge down my road.
First of all, have you considered singing lessons? You certainly have a mighty pair of lungs on you, but you lack control. I'm afraid that simply bellowing will not summon the enviable power of Freddie Mercury's vocal from beyond the pop/rock grave. If I were Simon Cowell, Louis Walsh or even the lovely Sharon Osbourne, it's likely I would comment that the song didn't really show off your talents. And to be honest, as I have not worked closely with you in a mentoring capacity in my LA mansion, Spanish villa or Dublin flat, I am not entirely sure where exactly your talents lie.
The second point is the time you chose for your performance. 1am is a pretty big slot to fill. Shit-faced street warblers are ten a penny, but in my opinion, if you're going to wreck somebody's kip, it's only fair to put on a right f*cking corker of a show. Tuneless yelling and yelping is far more endearing at around 11.30pm, when folk are scrubbing teeth and will peer down from behind their blinds, affectionately muttering 'tosser' before reaching for the Listerine. Also, the day. I could forgive your uncontrolled and frankly shoddy rendition on a Friday or Saturday - hopefully I wouldn't even be in. But Sunday night/Monday morning? Come on, mister. Waking up and realising it's Monday is heartbreaking enough, without the added misery of having only dropped off three hours previously because some pissed-up arse elected to 'hilariously' shriek out a classic pop chart release during a critical stage of the REM cycle, condemning everyone in the street to several distressing hours listening to the bastard central heating GURGLING, why does it gurgle like that for pity's sake?
So yeah, maybe a Friday would be better.
My third point... what was my third point. Yes. It is my choice to rest my head in the vicinity of bars. But I don't mind a bit of good-natured bawdy banter from the streets below. In fact, I feel it lends a certain carnival atmosphere. However, you, you and that bloke who repeatedly shouted "Oi-oi! Oi-oi! Oi-oi! Oi-oi! Oi, Darren! Oi-oi!" on Saturday night, you people really should just SIMMER DOWN and piss of back to Kent. Losers.
Thank you,
Lizzie
posted by Elizabeth at 6:08 PM
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