Anonymous: Partying is such shriek sorrow

COMMENT

It's started again. Thump, thump, thump, thump - I recognise it now. Wait for it, it's building up to a crescendo: "Another one bites the dust, and another one ... "

Arghh!!!!

There it is - a chorus of shrieking, out-of-tune, drunken party animals screaming along with Queen while sharing their loud enthusiasm with the whole neighbourhood at 2 in the morning.

Oh, my head. They've been partying for as long as I can remember.

It feels like forever - at least lunchtime yesterday. How many more hours of this can I take?

I hate Saturday night in the suburbs. I hate warm, balmy, summer nights when people throw open their ranchsliders and parties flow outside on to the deck.

Here we all are, lined up with wall-to-wall decks, making the most of the wonderful views out over the harbour to the Sky Tower and Rangitoto.

Early in the evening we share our barbecue smells and then things usually quieten down as we move indoors to watch television. But on Saturday night, don't expect to turn in early.

Most parties start quietly enough and take a while to warm up. But eventually, as the booze loosens people up, they find their vocal chords, the singing gains momentum and the stereo system is turned up full-blast for maximum party atmosphere.

How I long for a power surge from a lightning strike to blow up the karaoke machine. What happened to those power cuts we were promised? I would just love one right now.

Thumpa thumpa thumpa. "Who let the dogs out? Woof, woof, woof, woof," was the favourite last summer.

I haven't heard the Macarena this season. Hopefully it died a painful death and is out of fashion this year.

Musical choices reveal the age of the partygoers. By the sound of this crowd they were teenagers in the '70s.

They're working through 100 beer-time classics or some such awful collection and the favourites get repeated over and over.

If I have to hear We are the Champions in quadraphonic sound one more time I shall go out and shoot someone. And who told them they could sing? Sounds like the Aussie crowd at the Rugby World Cup.

Why did I move to a neighbourhood where the loudest people have the worst taste in music?

As I lie in bed in misery I concoct my revenge. I shall turn up my stereo at 5am tomorrow and play polka music. Or bagpipes ... yodellers ... a brass band?

Or the ultimate biteback: I'll hire a helicopter at dawn and fly over my neighbour's house playing Wagner from Apocalypse Now over loud speakers with staccato machine-gun blasts. That should wake up the so-and-sos after their all-night bender. Oh, the joy of revenge.