There goes the neighbourhood

Big news bitches, the biggest news ever.

The house in which I live is split into two. We occupy the top three floors and the flat at the bottom occupies the bottom floor.

Previously there were two people living in the flat at the bottom, one gay guy and one straight girl.

The gay guy was the squarest gay I've ever met.

One Friday evening we were having a party and I happened upon him rolling into his flat drunk, so I dragged him up to our party.

Things got way out of hand and at around 5am we were all sitting on the floor laughing and drinking around the lounge table.

He kept saying "I've never done that before, I don't think I should" until I pushed his head onto the glass table and went "oh, for fucks' sake, stop complaining and just _____."

I officially hold the dubious honour of corrupting the poor bastard. Whatever.

His housemate, however, was even worse. She was, well... I don't remember her name because we just used to call her Miserable Bitch.

But they couldn't afford the rent so they left. Good.

While I was away last weekend two new boys moved in. My housemate has met them and she says that she is sure they are gays.

And in her words "they're our age and definitely worth a squirt."

This is the MOST exciting news I have had in the last hour. This is big.

Of course what happens when two apparently hot poofs move in, in the flat below?

Yes bitches... you stalk.

I haven't found a letter addressed to either one of them so I don't know their names to see if they're on Facebook. Yet.

But I did climb onto the toilet and squeeze my head out of the guest loo window, from where you can see into their skylight.

Here we can see that they're watching Catherine Tate. Yes, they're gay.

One day, when I lean out of that window and see porn on the TV, I'm buying us all champagne.

Then, from the balcony off our kitchen you can see into one of their bedrooms.

In this bedroom we can see a white duvet, a leather bag on the bed and some sort of embroidered cushion with what appears to be a coat of arms on it. Ralph Lauren maybe?

With my luck, they're going to turn out to be square, dull, vacuous, boring gays who drink beer at the Duke of Wellington in Soho and when they do go out, go to somewhere like the Royal Vauxhall Tavern to watch some big fat woman make jokes about her poo-nana.

You watch.

If there is any fucken justice in the world they will turn out to be these two guys...

Come on fate, I'm tempting you. What have you moved in underneath us?

I know I'm setting myself up for a disappointment.

Why is it that everyone else has the hot neighbours and we never do?

Just for once in this life, can't they be gogo boys with sparkling personalities who enjoy a good book and casual sex. Please.