The Phantom Pisser.

The phantom pisser has struck again up ma bit.  Upon leaving the house for University this morning, I was once again greeted with a very unwelcome sight – a piss puddle on my door mat.  I went back inside, sat on the sofa and dialled the local housing association who deals with the majority of tenants in the close.  Their offices being closed, I took it upon myself to take action.  I knocked Alice’s door:

“Look at that! 3 times now.  This is quite literally taking the piss!” I explained angrily.

Alice was heading round to the housing association office anyways, so she told me that she would add it to her list of complaints.  Before we could conclude our brief conversation, we heard a hurried fumbling – Elsie was opening her door. 

“oh, what a terrible mess!  Is it that nuisance dog again?” she commented with concern.

She had good reason to comment on the mess.  The trail of piss extended from near the third floor almost to the front door with inevitably a pause taken at my front door to cause the greatest offence.  I couldn't be arsed listening to her shite patter, so enraged, I climbed the stair to the third floor.  I knocked both doors in unison.  Shona and Mary answered.

“Look, I’ve been here 5 and a half years and I’ve never had a problem with anyone.  For the third time in just over a week somebody has let their dog piss on my doormat and today it has been trailed down the stairs too.  It’s disgusting.  Whoever is responsible, would you kindly ensure that it doesn’t happen again?”

I stood there and listened to the awkward denial by both parties.  Both swore that they would never allow that or would have at least admitted it and cleaned up their dogs mess.  Having felt like it had been dealt with, I headed back down the stairs.  In my absence for all of about 2 minutes, the close had had a make-over similar to a mid 1990's episode of Changing Rooms with Carole Smilie but from Alice instead.  The door mat had been lifted and placed over the banister, pages of the Sun newspaper had been strewn across my doorway, and a new sign had been erected:

Alice seemed more annoyed than me:

“Av telt ye, it’s a fuckin’ bitch that’s sat doon, a female dug, it’s no a dug dug” she said, all the while pointing towards Shona’s flat.

At this point, although I was angry, I was beyond giving a shit about the phantom pisser as Elsie piped up again

“There’s a terrible smell.  That door mat will need replacing! Would you like a lemon loaf?” she added with such an abrupt change in topic that for a moment I didn't know what to say.

So there I am, standing enraged about the events of the phantom pisser and she’s offering me a fucking freshly baked lemon loaf!  I assume that her kind offer was due the the fact that I was visibly riled, but at that precise moment I was tempted to tell her to shove the entire citrusy confection up her arse.  What in the name of God did I need a lemon loaf for? 

I kindly agreed to take half as a whole one would be far too much.  So here I am, sitting writing this with a slice of lemon loaf, a cup of earl grey tea and erecting a sign to ask the phantom pisser to anonymously donate the cash for a replacement door mat...

That is what has happened today up ma bit.