In a bizarre turn of events earlier today, it's been reported that a boy armed with a plastic trumpet blew on it so hard, and for so long, that a man who lived opposite the little bastard felt like going across the road and ramming down his throat.
Moys Kenwood, 56, who has two children of his own living in his household, knows what it's like to endure the sometimes-crushingly unintelligible behavior of youngsters, and has adapted his psyche accordingly.
This, however, was different.
The boy in question, aged about 8, walked up and down outside the Kenwoods' house relentlessly puffing on his 2-foot long red trumpet as if his life depended on it. It almost did.
Kenwood:
"It started about 6am. Up and down, up and down, without a break. Parp!Parp!Parp! Little twat! No effort whatsoever to create a tune! Just an incessant, infuriating wall of sound. Miles Davis this kid was not!"
What was most annoying, perhaps, for the sleepy Englishman, was that nobody amongst his neighbors seemed in the least bit perturbed about this sonic aural assault.
"It's business as usual, I suppose. They seem to walk around in a daze, unaware of most things. I sometimes wonder if fire, flood or earthquake might rouse them from their slumbering states of mind. Probably not."
As of press time, the annoying runt had yet to cease his infernal racket, and was, by the minute, becoming increasingly closer to having the plastic toy forcefully inserted in his rectum.
