There is a huge house in our street.
The extended family is run by an old woman with a pack of irritable dogs allowed to run without a leash. Her car doesn’t even have a number plate, but the police do nothing.
To the best of my knowledge, she has never had a regular job in her life and her bad-tempered husband is notorious for his racist comments.
A shopkeeper blamed her for arranging the murder of her son’s ex-wife and her boyfriend, but nothing has ever been proved.
All their kids have broken marriages except the youngest, who everyone thinks is gay.
Two grandsons are meant to be in the army but are always out partying in nightclubs.
One of them got married and seems to be settling down but the second is out of control.
It is not even known if they have the same father.
I hate living near Buckingham Palace.