Dear Crazy Scotsman In The Flat Above My Own,
I have been trying to forget that I feel this way for quite a while, but I can’t pretend anymore. I am really rather anxious. You know when you run around in just your underwear wielding an imaginary chainsaw, telling me you’re going to trim my ivy ? Well, let me share how that makes me feel… When you do that, mate, I feel quite scared. Not so much anxious or even nervous, but really, really scared. It makes me want to call the police. I would like to think that I am not the only one who feels this way. As a matter of fact, you know Kim and Greg, in the flat up the top? Well they told me that you worry them too – they said that they can hear you…y’know, through the walls.
You know what they say: If one person says you’re a noisy masturbator, you can forget it. When two people say you’re a noisy masturbator, you might want to consider it. When three people say you’re a noisy masturbator, you might want to stop masturbating so noisily. It’s about that time for you, Crazy Scotsman. Think about that.
Since we are being so honest, there are a few other things I would like to air. I hate it when you miaow at me from your window when I’m out in my garden having a smoke. It makes me a) worry that my cat is stuck on the roof, and b) intimidated when you laugh at my resulting anxiety and confusion.
I also hate the way you open my fucking mail. Every time you ‘accidentally’ read my bank statement, I want to piss in your tea.
Also, Malcolm from the basement flat is not your real friend. Remember that secret that you shared? Well he shared it with everyone. Now everyone knows you’re lactose intolerant and they all laugh at you behind your back.
I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I really like you. I value our relationship. But I cannot go on pretending that this shit hasn’t happened. If you care enough about me and this relationship, I am sure you would agree to stop being such a crazy fucking Scotsman.