The Whistler

There he go there again up the alleyway with him baleful whistle. Listen. He whistle and whistle whomever he goes. Top of his voice, top of his whistle. He make me sick he do. Up that alleyway day and night in all hours whatever the weather whistling like that. He make me sick. I should tell him to shut his mouth. Open the front door when he come down the alleyway and stick my head round and tell him oi you fucking shut it you fucking noisy shit stop that whistling you whistling cunt!

You should see him. Have you seen him that whistler when he come down here past the alleyway? A lanky shower. Streak of piss. He got all them retards on his head. Not retards. Dreadlocks. On his head. And he whiter than I am. Dreadlocks. Whistling with his stupid dreadlocks. I should kick his stupid whistling head all over the place. Like a stupid whistling football. I should stamp down on his whistling head and smash his lips. I should cut his lips and break the teeth in his stupid mouth. I should crash his head along and scrape it on the walls of the alleyway. I should pull his pants down I would.

He in his fucking bedroom at all hours. In bed in the afternoon, lying there in his bed whistling and blaring music. Have you walked down my street? It’s a different street to what it was before, what it is now. Down the hill it’s gone all the way. Them students and all over the street with their curtains closed. All closed. The street looks like it’s a curtains closed street. Curtains closed and old bikes and stuff and posters. The cheeky fucking. I don’t like it you know. They don’t even live round here none of them. Them students that don’t live round here most of the time. They just, they just not here in the holidays and all that thing. Whistling motherfuckers I call them. Fucking motherfucking whistler noisy cunts.

He was there outside the other day last week looking in my window. I was closing the curtains when I looked at him out the window and he was staring right into my eye. And he kept looking right in my eye. He kept looking and he was whistling. I said and shouted at him you whistling motherfucker leave me alone what you looking at, don’t look at me like that you whistling bastard! He just stood there the motherfucker whistling and all that and carrying on. And looking at me until I closed the curtains. Then he weren’t there any more and I couldn’t see him anyway. But I could hear him anyway still out there, whistling away. Whistling down my alleyway.