The Brixton Screamer
We lived in 'Mansions' in Brixton in about '93 (for mansions read purpose-built Victorian slum flats. No wonder they used to riot round there).

A girl moved in upstairs, seemed ok, said hello on the stairs, bit of a hippy. Within a couple of weeks we'd learned that she never seemed to go to work (mind you nor did we), and that she enjoyed noisy sex with an antipodean bloke at all hours of the day and night.

Funnt up to a point, but the crumbling block had no sound-proofing, so just when we were settling down to laugh at freaks on Kilroy or play on the Mega Drive, she'd pipe up with her wails, moans and shrieks.

It went on for a few weeks until the solution came - every time she started to moan, we would too, but louder. 2 or 3 of us shrieking our lungs out (and howling with laughter). She soon shut up (and stopped saying hello).
(Lo Pan is in big trouble, Fri 12 Oct 2007, 14:28, Reply)