I am wrong about something and also homicidal about something

Some of you may remember me talking a while back about how admirable I find the attitude towards drinking in Spain. No?

Well, I was basically gushing about how wonderfully restrained they are here, and how there is a general disdain for public drunkenness. This is sort of not true. 

At all. 

It depends really on where you go, and at what time. Being old and married, we tend to get our drunk on, eat ice creams and be home by about 1a.m., which is shamefully early in this country, as 1a.m. is when the young folk are really just getting started. 

Anyway, so there are lots of drunken idiots in this country too, and we have been woken up by them several times a week for the last few weeks at around 4a.m. But only during the week, for some reason, not on the weekends. 

I actually wouldn’t mind if it was the weekend, but on a Tuesday morning it just seems unreasonable (I say that as if they’re waking me up and I’m pissed off because I have to get up early in the morning to go to work or to uni, or to do something constructive, when the reality is that the next day I have to get up at some point before mid-morning, then spend the day crumbling biscuits down the front of my pyjamas while I read novels, but my point remains valid).

And if it was just people talking loudly I wouldn’t mid. Just because I’m a biscuit-eating recluse doesn’t mean I expect everyone else to be one too. 

No, what I object to is that the people who awaken me from my hard-earned slumber are the kind of knuckle-dragging mouth breathers whose family trees probably go sideways rather than up and down, and who think that the height of sophisticated comedy is kicking roller doors and hitting dumpsters with sticks. 

On an average night, this is what we hear;

Dipshit #1: Hombre! Ver el que, me tiene un palo!*

CLANG CLANG CLANG

Hur hur hur

Dipshit #2 Eso no es nada, me peuden expulsar esta puerta muy bien**

THUD THUD THUD

I have considered retaliation, perhaps by keeping some water balloons handy. Or maybe some tomatoes. Though we are on the third floor here, and the cans might actually kill them, when all I really want is to maim them horribly. 

Luckily, the intent of the phrase ‘fuck off, you brain dead morons’ is clear enough in any language. 

*Hey man, look at me, I’ve got me a stick!

** That’s nothing, I can kick this door real good