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For 'teadrinker' on GW forum thread "neighbour cutting our hedge" and for all those who have suffered or are still suffering from anti-social neighbour problems.

This poem is a bit of fun, but the destructive implications of the type of actions depicted are serious whilst the implication of inaction is corrosive and unthinkable.

Humiliation of the real culprits is difficult and shaming of those in positions of governance who could protect even more so.

One would like to think publicly satirising would be effective and satisfying if it could be done. We can live in hope... In the meantime we all seem to have to fight our own corner with whatever help we can find.

The following verses may, or may not, bear a considerable resemblance to actual events: the writer wishes it to be known, however, that this account is entirely fictional as are the characters therein... oh, and no policeman were harmed during this production.

I have set up this thread purely to give the poem it's first airing in full. If the posting works anyone is welcome to post their own contributions, comments, experiences etc.
I shall opt out for a bit, however, to regrow my typing fingers!

The next post will consist of the poem, the whole poem (hopefully) and nothing but the poem.



"The Bully and the Policeman"

"A garden is a lovesome thing..."
A calm and tranquil space?
A place of relaxation?
This is not always the case.

I know some peaceful gardening folk
Who live quite near the coast
Whose flowers, plants and garden
List among what they love most.

But they have a gardening problem -
And it needs to be addressed -
Involving their back garden
Which is bothered by a pest.

It's neither moth, nor fly nor worm,
Nor any type of bug,
But just as detrimental
Is this horticultural thug.

Their neighbour is a hateful man
Who vents his bile and spite
With damage and abuse by day
And noises through the night.

This man seems full of bitterness,
A state with unknown cause,
Which he takes out on his neighbours
When he sees them, without pause.

The various departments
Seemed to give immunity
Allowing him to carry on
With full impunity.

The gentle folk affected
Have to each department spoken
But the dilatory responses
Merely add up to a token.

They've suffered damage, hate, abuse,
Some planting has been trashed.
The authorities could help them
But prefer their hopes to dash.

Until upholders of our laws
Can act effectively,
I humbly would present you with
This little fantasy:

X. X. X

There lives near you a bully
He upsets his gentle neighbours.
To give no rest to their distress
He'll concentrate his labours.

Now bullies come as young or old -
It's even worth a mention
You may find them in the nursery
Or saving up their pension.

This one likes to glare and stare;
He causes damage too:
He cuts holes in their fence and hedge
To see the things they do.

The incentive for this harassment
Is not too clear to see
But family and happiness
Is what it seems to be.

Our gentle neighbours love to chat
Relaxing in the sun,
Industrious when they're working,
Contented when they're done.

This seems to rile this twisted man,
I've met the type before.
The moment there's activity
He opens his back door,

And marching up his garden path
Drags out his steps and tools;
And while he stares or shouts at folk
Insanity's what rules.

They tried in vain to talk to him
He'd just glare with disdain.
They tried with casual courtesies
But this too was in vain.

If they said "Good morning,"
Or "Why do you hate us so?"
He'd then give voice with language choice
And "off on one" he'd go.

They often felt like fighting back,
The harassment was great,
But preferred to live their lives in peace
Eschewing vengeful hate.

There came a day they'd had enough
Of snip and peek and pry.
They thought to choose a sturdy stick
And poke it in his eye!

But happily, as things turned out,
They didn't needn't to worry
For on hearing voices up he came
Just too much in a hurry.

He faltered as he reached the top
In bafflement and surprise:
His victims dared to wait for him
With laughter in their eyes.

He needed now to reassess
This situation new;
For just a while he stood there, still,
Deciding what to do.

While balanced on those well-used steps,
His face was filled with thunder;
Then he felt them budge, (there was no "nudge")
And soon he looked from under.

Confused he heard their laughter
For he'd thought they would retreat;
Then from the floor he gave a roar
And stumbled to his feet.

He staggered to the telephone:
The police'll sort them out.
They'll come for me, he thought with glee.
(Of that we have no doubt!)

(to be continued .... Too long for one posting)


The Bully and the Policeman (continued)

"It's me again," he said in pain,
"They pushed me off their hedge!"
"I'm sorry sir, we cannot stir;
Er, were you 'on the edge'?"

"How dare you so insinuate!
My mental health's just fine;
I think you stall. I never fall,
I'm stable every time!"

The sergeant and his constable
('one coffee and one tea')
Had had to break off from their break
True policemen for to be.

"You sure your ladder's fixed alright?
We all can make mistakes,"
The sergeant said, with aching head,
While reaching for the cakes...

"I set my steps on ground well firm
Whereon they always stand:
The place exact, the ground compact,
As I survey their land."

Considering this latest thought
The sergeant gave a groan;
Beseechingly, across the desk
He offered up the 'phone.

Two policemen held each other's gaze -
One sergeant, one PC,
Ignoring papers, piles and files,
One coffee and one tea.

"One moment sir," the sergeant said.
"It's you-know-who again,"
He breathed. "You go. It's not my shout,
I need to rest my brain."

His chum got up. "Oh, by the way..."
He reached across the table
To where his coffee beckoned him,
"Our caller thinks he's stable."

"Oh, so it's not the other one,
She phoned the other day?"
"Well that might be, you'll have to see,
Now, best be on your way."

He watched the PC close the door,
Then said "It's my belief:
When duty calls you've got to go."
And sat down with relief.

Our sergeant then got lost in thought:
Them others aren't so bad,
But... I'm not so sure 'bout 'im next door!'
His features went all sad.

Now! Felons! thought the sergeant...
And his features went majestic:
Now them I'll meet! They're up my street!
... I just can't do 'domestic'!

Good policing is the thing, he thought,
And sucked upon a toffee...
Then sagged again with aching brain
And stirred his cup of coffee.

Crime ain't what it used to be:
The villains and the scum.
But he shuddered at the thought of it
And what he had become.



The Bully and the Policeman (continued)

It really used to mean something,
The cars, the crimes, the chase!
But now it's steps... and hedges ...
Meeting neighbours face to face!

Why can't I do it any more?
He nursed his aching dome.
The clock, he saw, said half past four.
An hour - then I'm home.

He started shifting papers
To his chum's place from his own,
A crime that was arrested by
The jangle of the 'phone.

"Hello!" "It's your Commissioner."
(Now - great consternation!)
"Its been agreed there is a need
To meet ... down at your station.

At three tomorrow I'll be there
I want to meet your team."
"Why, certainly! I'll order tea.
Oh! No tea!" (Silent scream)

He put the 'phone down rather slow
Then finished up his cup.
You have to know the time to go:
It's when you're all washed up.

Our sergeant, once a lively chap
Who'd not been one to cower,
Attended as instructed
On the dread appointed hour.

The mood was strong, the meeting long
For the officers of our laws;
Discussions and decisions
Had to stay behind closed doors.




The Bully and the Policeman (continued)

Suffice to say key issues raised
Put people in their place:
Procedure - Motivation -
Effort - Public Interface!

Whilst voices of authority
Agreed "We're all hard pressed",
"Too much concealed", "Too much revealed"
Were other views expressed.

Communication was the nub
And keeping to a plan.
But the rot that thrived within this hive
All pointed to one man.

"Improvements to our workforce
Must involve some snip and trim."
And amid reviews of timescales
There was one concerning him.

X. X. X.

It wasn't fair they all agreed
To blame it on one cop,
But once it was decided
T'was our sergeant got 'the chop'.

X. X. X.

The pension was a help of course
So now he didn't care.
From filing forms to mowing lawns
Meant breathing better air.

He basked away the summer days,
The hassles all behind,
And past events became a haze;
They troubled not his mind.

One day, amongst his roses
While reviewing life's events,
He heard the sound of garden tools:
A ladder? On his fence?

A rose head dropped upon the ground,
A 'Fortune's Double Yellow'!
Then, once his policeman voice he found
He then began to bellow.

The oaf next door sent back some oaths.
"How dare you! I'm a cop!"
The neighbour, grinning, stopped his trimming...
Then began to lop!

X. X. X.



The Bully and the Policeman (continued)

 The Station couldn't help, they said,
"You don't work here no more.
Try mediation," said The Station.
"Try knocking at his door."

Mediate? Intimidate
Is what I'd like to try!
I'll tear his hinges off his gate!
I'll make 'im want t' die!

One punch could once've sorted this!
Thought our expublic worker.
Keen and mean, I'd really lean
Upon this beeping shirker!

Harassment? I'd show you 'harass'
If still I had my youth!
I'd have 'im shaking in 'is shoes:
Hard or just uncouth!

But now uncouth was winning out,
Uncouth and youth was stronger;
His policemen days had felt too long
But now these felt much longer.

While trying to work with nature now
With weeds and pests embattled,
That garden pest was besting him
And really had him rattled.

Then at last he saw the parallel
And wished he had done more
To resolve the public grievances
That came now to his door.

He saw the waste of latter years
Once age had cooled his fire:
His desk, his chair, his thinning hair -
His waiting to retire.

But it wasn't meant to be like this,
He'd hoped to have more fun.
I tell you what: that policeman's lot
Was not a happy one.

X. X. X.



The Bully and the Policeman (conclusion)

The world is not a perfect place
You get what you put in;
Good friends and neighbours help us through
The thick and through the thin.

Some folk help and some folk hinder,
Some make better, some make worse,
You choose the type you want to be:
The blessing or the curse.

The bully may be bullied,
And the lazy made to work,
But choosing how our world goes round
Is something we can't shirk.

To him who cannot mediate
Life's not what he supposes:
It's what you choose to cultivate:
Pests - or beds of roses.

By "Birdy"


That is fantastic Birdy, can't wait to read the rest! You've truly hit the nail on the head!

Ooops you beat me to it!

Oh Birdy!. Give the man a round of applause everyone! Absolutely FANTASTIC!!!!!!!

(imagine Kermit here)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


  Found me out!

Yay! (who's Miss Piggy?)



Brilliant, a really good read Birdy13


That's great Birdy, well done and well said.





(Tea said: ... give us a bow.)


Will this do Tea?

or this

Sorry about the size - might be useful for 'big game'



(Must stop this tomfoolery now)


btw, just read your "pome" out to hubby and he sat open-mouthed throughout the whole thing without saying a word. Then applauded. So there.


Fabulous poem. Make me chuckle on the way home from work