Not me fortunately, the following is a fiction, I hope!

Community Spirits.

I live in Never Never Land, but I’m not Peter Pan
It’s the neighbours that aren’t grown up, and just can’t understand
Bonfires when washings out, loud music way past midnight
Barking dogs, and honking horns, even the occasional fight

Mr Jones he doesn’t work, but cuts his lawn on Sundays
Mrs Smith she parks her car on our drive, and usually it’s sideways
Daughter Jane misbehaves parent’s come and go like ghosts
Little Johnny likes football but thinks our windows goal posts

All the cars parked on our road there’s no room for loading
So Amazon use our drive, then the driver stands there smoking
We get land mines on our drive, little bags of dog poo
Someone threw a brick at our gnome I had to fix him up with glue

Why does he wear that mask and go out at night with a crow bar?
And why is it every time he comes home driving a different car?
Nr Thirteen, those six foot long mounds in their back garden?
Is it anything to do with those knives he likes to sit and sharpen?

I can understand wanting free electricity but why get it from a street lamp
We didn’t know a thing about it until the weather got quite damp
We’re Ok just a few cracks, and I can fix the windows later
It’s the rest of the street I’m sorry for, it’s ended up one big crater.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was the gnome that was fixed with glue by the way, not the thrower of the missile.

Meadowhead Bard.