Sleepless in St Kilda

I've got it in for a lot of people (3) at the moment, who have randomly woken me up at different times in the dead of night. The problem is I don't know who any of them are. I know that two of them, at least, are local crackheads, at least. On two seperate nights over the last week I've been woken at roughly 3am by local hobos, clearly off their head on 'ice' or 'speedballs' or whatever the hell it is the kids are doing these days. The first time was some gentleman of the road generally roaring his lungs out that he was going to murder someone, smashing bottles and generally utilising his extensive swear vocabulary. The second time was actually quite amusing, in a kind of Eastenders style. To begin with, it all sounded the same as the time before, 'cept this crackhead was a lady. However, in the midst of all the profanity and general racket were some quite amusing phrases like "She's 37 years younger than you", "You peadophile bastard" and (my favourite) "She's my fucking daughter!". Whoever that man is, I salute him. He definitely made the correct choice. These incidents excepted, the hobos around the St Kilda area, and they are legion, are generally quite nice. They'll occasionally seranade you with a poorly performed african drum solo, plink out a song on a badly tuned guitar or drop some juggling balls in your general direction, then they'll ask for some money and we'll all laugh at the irony that I am actually in much more debt than they are and therefore they should give me some money. Another time, I was walking to meet my boss for work, and I passed by an old homeless guy, sporting the usual drunken abusive father christmas style (inc massive beard). This guy was, rather proudly, stood in the middle of the pavement having a wee. He caught my eye as I walked past, and held it. Which was a slightly surreal situation. I was also accosted for change the other day buy a guy who was so stoned off his face that he couldn't actually speak, I very nearly relented and gave him a few bucks for all the effort he'd clearly put in.

Getting back to my lack of sleep, the third arouser is an altogether different kind of evil. A few nights ago, I was woken at 3am by some git (from England) who had decided to phone me and withhold caller I.D. When I answered to phone to tell them where to shove it, I was treated to the dulcet tones of what I think was Trevelyan College fire alarm. This wouldn't have been so bad, but I had to be up for work at 5.45am the next day. Whoever you are, rest assured, I will hunt you down with all the energy and tenacity in my body.


In case anyone is wondering where Morgan is, he's gone hobbit spotting in New Zealand. With any luck, now that he's on his own, he'll actually have to make some descisions by himself.