Yesterday I was sat in my office and noticed a burberry cap hovering around by the edge of my garden. On looking out I saw a yoof stsanding in my elderly neighbour's garden trying to force his foot through the middle of my link mail fence. I ventured outside and asked spotty McFuckwit if he had lost something. He retorted in a sort of low frequncy trogladite mumble (you know the one, when teenagers weigh about 6 stone but in a cruel twist of puberty they have a voice like Barry White), he said that him and his posse (or was it Passé) need to get to a street a few gardens down from mine. I told them to go back to the road and walk there that way. Now to get to the point in my neighbours garden that they were now shuffling around in they must have gone over at least four or five other fences, I can only assume they were in althletic training for some sort of garden hurdle race, that would explain the head to toe tracksuits! They were insistant that they go through my garden and then the garden of my neighbour to get to their location and again the spokesmoron pleaded his case. I explained that with the two metre drop into my garden, and the subsequent two metre drop into my neighbours garden (landing in a pond) might not be the best thing for thier fragile looking bodies. They were insistant that no injury would befall them and seemed quite confused and offended with my insistant NO to thier requests, eventually they mooched off to explore what other delights my elderly neighbour's garden had to offer, which is mostly a collection of cat shit in long grass.
I was totally amazed by two things that arose from this encounter;
1 - These yoofs had apparently no concept of the fact that there was anything wrong with being an univited presense in someone elses garden.
2 - With Burberry caps and tracksuits they have obviously never heard of the word 'Cliché'.