Error Gorilla

Hope to see you soon!

We live here.

Why not visit? Previous passers-by have enjoyed the following activities:

1. Fucking the woman he picked up previously that evening underneath our bedroom window. Sure, it might be the middle of summer and that means we’ll have the window open slightly but, hey, we really don’t mind hearing your thrusting and slurping and moaning and “oh, yeah, that’s right, come on love, I know we’ve only just met…” at 3am.
2. Opposite is a car park. If you’re a taxi driver, why not alight from your cab at 4am, stopping just underneath our bedroom window, naturally ensuring you leave the diesel engine clanking and fuming away, whilst you go and take a piss? Hell, if you’ve been to the curry house nearby and are returning to your car, why not get in, turn the lights on, get out, walk around to the front, hitch up your skirt and micturate like a fucking Kentucky Derby winner, illuminated by your full beams? There’s nothing I like more than watching a glistening river of hot piss emerging from between your elephantine thighs whilst you shout “FUCKING WAIT FOR ME YER CUNTS!” at your equally drunk friends waiting in the car.
3. I like a smoke and can often be found near the door to the left of the picture. Courtesy dictates that I step back into my home whenever I see someone approaching along the pavement but don’t let that stop you aggressively demanding I give you cigarettes. Perhaps you might even like to growl at me to “fuck off” for no apparent reason in the middle of the day? There’s nothing I like more than a muscle-bound stranger drinking from a can of beer and deciding he’d like to start a fight with me at 2pm.
4. The acoustics of the small balconette railing make for a delightful percussive device at 1am. Why not run at it and kick it and clamber up onto it, hammering at the windows and terrifying my girlfriend? After you’ve done that, feel free to hurl your fetid kebab at the windows, allowing it to congeal so we have to pick at the ossified blazon of your absolute fucking absence of a social conscience the next day.
5. If you’re two little pricks in school blazers with your own copies of that unruly mess of Boris Johnson hair that seemingly all little middle class fucks have these days, why not shout smart comments at the man enjoying a cigarette? Really, just look right at him as you say it. When it turns out he has quite a temper and doesn’t much like cheeky little twats, point at the face of your terrified friend and claim he said it before running off, leaving the bewildered occupant of the flat wondering if any moment your outraged mother will be stomping down, waving an undulating fist and demanding to know why the nasty fat man was rude to her delightful little Oscar and Ptolemy.
6. If you’re a young man and it’s the height of summer and you find the balconette door open in the middle of the afternoon, why not get your two friends to help lift you over the railing in order to gain access? When I walk back in from the bedroom to find you halfway into my home, don’t miss a beat as you say “Alright mate, nice flat. How much are they?” before dropping down onto the pavement and slowly walking away. Really, that’s just fucking dandy. Do stop by again won’t you? I’ll have an XBOX and a plasma television waiting for you like a couple of pork pies on a buffet table.
7. To the left of the picture is the entrance into the courtyard behind our flat. On a summers day, why not turn up with twenty of your wiry, shirtless and highly aggressive friends and smoke your tits off on crack? We just love a police riot van, loads of angry cops and you screaming “I AIN’T FUCKING DONE NOTHING! I AIN’T FUCKING DONE NOTHING!” over and over as you kick and scream and spit into the cops’ faces as you’re bundled into the van, to really get that “sweet summer vibe” ambience flowing.
8. It is of course mandatory that you evacuate all of your unwanted nasal and chest mucus immediately outside our flat. Really, you need to hock that stuff up. Stop walking and fully allow yourself to concentrate. Fffmmmggghhh. Kkkeerrrggghhh. When you’ve a mouthful of this gelatinous goo, aim it at the wall underneath our bedroom window. Allow us to lie there in the dark imagining this chest magma slowly working it’s way down the wall. Honestly, the pleasure is entirely ours! Maybe in the end we’ll grab two hours sleep before the buses and trains and the trash trucks come to life and anyway, after several months of people screaming and bellowing at all hours you kind of get used to never sleeping.
9. Next to our flat is some wooden fencing which hides the municipal trash bins. If you’ve read some Chomsky why not scrawl “Job, Mortgage, TV getting you down? KILL YOURSELF NOW!” on it? I find it really helps to make enormous assumptions about the people who live in places like this, people who have only ever lived in rented accommodation and who cannot afford to buy even at the lowest end of the market and see absolutely no prospect of ever doing so and can’t imagine the next time they’ll get a proper night’s sleep.

Can’t wait to see you!