Tuesday, June 20, 2006

Things That Go Bump In The Night ...

04h00 Woken up by what sounded like someone dragging dead bodies about in the upstairs apartment.

04h05 Lost temper due to sleep being interrupted - can you blame me? (Mind you, if you looked like me you'd need all the beauty sleep you could get!).

04h10 Got up and looked out of window.

04h11 Saw two Police cars in the road outside (where else?).

04h15 Noise upstairs getting worse. Talking, dragging, bumping. Lots of booted feet on wooden staircase.

04h30 Ditto.

04h45 Ditto. Went for pee.

05h00 Ditto (except for the pee bit).

05h05 A white male was lead downstairs and put into Sapeur Pompier vehicle - wasn't not looking entirely steady on his pins. All Police officers and Sap Pomps wearing latex gloves (ooo, that kind of party, was it?).

05h10 Sapeur Pompiers took off with 'unknown' male. 8 Policemen stood around chatting. Went back to bed.

06h30 Dozed but just couldn't get back to sleep. Finally got up.

06h50 4 x SOCO officers leave an apartment upstairs with a collection of boxes, cameras and tripods etc. They stood around chatting.

So, after a few hours, here’s the low-down on the events of this morning;

There’s an American chap on the 4th floor (I‘m on the 2nd). He’s often away on business as I normally see him when he’s either leaving or coming home, along with his collection of large suitcases. He‘s probably a European firefighter for some big American multi-national but he’s always pleasant and smiley when we cross each other on the staircase.

He's as ‘a friend of Dorothy’ - whatever rocks his boat. So, after a long trip away, he’s due some time off and, as happens to us all, he fancies a bit of mid-week entertainment. In the words of the late great Ian Dury, “he fancied a bit of Wembley up his Rio Grande”. So, off he goes in gay abandon, his mind fixed on finding a little sport. He ends up in a bar and picks up a group of 4 ‘chaps’, entices them back to chez lui, plies them with booze, a few spliffs and waits for the fun to start.

He was not to be disappointed - it started alright … two of them held him down and kicked seven bells of shit out of him while the other two set about robbing the place. Once the swag had been harvested, they scarpered. He managed to get to the phone and call the flics who turned up mob-handed, and on seeing the state he was in, radioed for medical assistance.

The noise in the upstairs apartment was cops marching about taking statements from the chap and his girlfriend on the 3rd floor and the gentleman I saw being hoiked into the Sapeur Pompiers truck was the American and not one of the assailants.

Apparently, the cops are coming round later today to interview all of us who live in the building. Not sure what I can tell them apart from “Your big-footed colleagues woke me up at 4am” which is hardly going to be the clincher that helps catch the gay-bashers. The other thing being is that they knicked his keys so the ‘syndic’ (the property manager) will have to arrange to have ALL door locks and codes changed.

Oh goody. One thing after another.

There is a moral to this story but I'm f**ked if I can be bothered to relate it. Suffice to say that the silly beggar on the 4th floor should have known better than to invite 4 unknown men back to his place ...

Stu (yawning uncontrollably)

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