What did I do to you? Why do you hate my beloved Igor? (Yes that’s my car’s name.)
Is it because the beautiful shine of the car roof is making you squint so you can’t sleep properly? Perhaps it’s because we’ve painted the fences blue and you’re a Manchester United fan?
I know you like that tree at the front of our house, but didn’t your mother ever tell you not to crap where you eat? Mine did, and it’s going swimmingly so far. I know the phrase means something else, but I think if you take it literally, we’d get along better.
The paint on my car has been damaged and the council thinks your home is too much of a beautiful healthy tree to be pruned. It sure is pretty, I don’t blame you for not wanting to leave. Do you think you’d consider going to the bathroom elsewhere though? Either that or I’ll invoice you for the multiple monthly car washes which are crippling my bank balance. I wish it was gold you were showering my car with.
I want us to be friends but first I need you to look at the below and go and think about what you did. Also, re-think your diet. Seriously, what are you eating?
My friends think I should buy a slingshot but I’m too much of a softie to hurt you – and I’m not entirely sure if it’s legal either.
I will accept an apology should you choose to get rid of the scary spiders that have suddenly appeared outside of our bedroom window, not far from your nest.
AKA that ginger one that swears at you from time to time.