Weeeeelp, I'm moving again. Having a nice quiet night in last night (well, as quiet as possible, given the children next suite over), drinkin' a beer and playin' computer games when all of a sudden the shouting upstairs I'd been hearing from my landlord's place spilled out into the back yard, including banging on neighbours' suite door, scuffling, and someone being shoved against the fence or outside of the house.

After arming myself with a sex whip and making sure the door was locked I called the cops, as it was most likely the dad fighting with his son. I couldn't be sure, but then I remembered Russell Peters' standup bit about East Indian dads beating their kids: "Somebody's gonna get hurt real bad".

With this knowledge in my mind I relayed what I knew to the police, tucked the sex whip up my sleeve and strolled out to the alley to smoke. As I was standing there (and trying to ignore the crazy guy who lives across the street standing in his doorway staring at me), the OTHER son rolled up to collect their doberman who had gotten loose in the chaos and was mildly menacing me, and then the cop car raced down the alley as the cops called me back and asked me to flag them down out the front of the house. Here now is a dramatic reenactment, with the old Italian drunk representing myself: