My old shed featured in many of the national newspapers this week, and actually got on the front page of the local Basingstoke Gazette. The reason behind this was a police raid on my old next door neighbours house resulting in a £100k marijuana seizure, as it turns out the house had been turned in to factory for the B class drug. My old shed got it’s moment in the limelight by being in the background of dramatic photographs as one of the alleged factory owners hurdled the fence in to my old garden in an attempt to escape the clutches of the law. See the drama unfold by clicking here

Rather than feeling relieved about no longer living there, I felt a perverse sense of jealousy that I hadn’t been caught up in the drama of it all. I could have been the have a go hero who wrestled the dastardly dealer to ground, or at the very least I could have been Mr Cliche for the media by saying “You don’t expect this sort of thing to happen, it’s such a quiet area. They seemed very pleasant, quiet, and kept themselves to themselves really, it’s quite a shock.”

This is of course the standard response to the media, and I would have probably by default said exactly that, even if I had had suspicions over the years about the goings on there. It is what we do, it’s like when someone dies they are always “A gentle giant, a loving family man who adored his kids, he will be sorely missed.” I have seen this sort of quote, when the picture of the guy clearly shows he is a lunatic from a sink estate. It is the standard response, though I would just love someone to come out one day and say; “He was a piece of shit to be honest, and though it was quite a shock, he had it coming, and deep down I won’t miss him, I am just hoping he has a good insurance policy.”

When you think about it, people who run drug factories are going to keep themselves to themselves, as the would be a bit foolish to do anything but. It’s not like they can make idle chat with the neighbours about how high their heating bill are, or how many light bulbs they are getting through, and how do you explain not opening the curtains for several months at a time?

Still, my new neighbours aren’t drug dealers, they are too busy having to deal with a baby that delivers the most alarming screech at intervals that are annoyingly regular. It as if though they are sticking a red hot poker up his arse, it must be very alarming for them, and it brings back chilling memories of the more miserable aspects of early parenthood.

However, I think the elderly woman opposite may be cultivating drugs. Her curtains have been closed since the cold weather set in, and she has been keeping herself to herself to such an extent that she hasn’t even been out of the house to take her milk in for weeks. I know what the nasty bitch is up to, she can’t fool me!!!