Sitting in my flat reading Jimmy Greaves's autobiography got very boring very quickly on Saturday, so I went to the internet cafe down the road to check everything and stream the very painful Palace match. There's no need for anyone to know that whatsoever but bear with me. I left the cafe at 10.40pm and arrived back to my flat at 11 to find the front gate padlocked. This isn't a massive problem in itself as the gate is only about 5 foot high. So I thought i'd climb it. My only problem was that the landlord of the building Abraham (who lives below me) has a little yappy dog called Tiger. (Abraham is a puritanical protestant, so the decision to name his dog after the world's greatest golfer and lover has backfired on him somewhat.). Anyhow, the little yappy dog starts yapping and yaps away for a good 10 minutes until Abraham wakes up and comes and finds me looking a little bit pissed off with his lot in life. 11pm seems to be very late in this part of the world. He's also the sort of bloke who just wears a loincloth when he's round the house. To cut an even longer story short, this half naked religious nut gives me a severe dressing down about my extreme lateness and warns me that I have to be back on the premises by a 9pm curfew.
So I've basically got an ASBO for going on facebook too much. Great.
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