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Blasting the first DEVO album in my dormitory, the first year at college, for the benefit of my Southern Rock-listening next door neighbor. ('Damn! What the %*&# is that @#%&?)

Also, playing the Specials real loud the year after that, prompting multiple visits from the uptight grad student in the downstairs apartment.

My next door neighbour, a pensioner, has a habit of singing half the night, at the top of his voice, a favourite of his is the death song from the film "The Vikings", and he accompanies himself by repeatedly slamming a door. The wierd thing is nobody seems to mind much, apart from the local milkman, who has to be up by 3-00am.

ME...........I get told off if my telly's too loud.

Tom....A flat dweller.

PS, Lynard Skynard usually makes a good declaration of intent.