A little bit -They're in the money!

The 2019 rich-list popped screaming into the world in february. Looked around for it's platinum spoon. Then sulked off as the vast bulk of the media moved onto the next event.

We are usually informed by presenters, in tones of exasperated wonder, just how much these bestriding titans are worth. Whether they've risen, or how far they've fallen and despite their bad luck which benevolent charity they've donated so much of their wealth to. Nowadays, even that accolade is only confined to those lucky enough to be placed within the highly coveted bracket of minting it, otherwise known as the top five.

As a grouping, the top ten richest people in the world are worth roughly $743.8 billion. Put another way, if you lined up 37,190,000 people (let's say the entire population of afghanistan, or canada) and then proceeded to hand each individual (babies included) $20,000 no strings attached, collectively they would have the same amount as the worthiest ten richest individuals in the world.

If we continue cannon-balling along with this little mind trip, and take the world's 100 richest people (if my slightly watering eyes, and dodgy mathematics are anywhere near correct), they are collectively worth a clip at $3 trillion +/- $32 billion. Put another way, 151,590,000 destitute people could be given $20,000 a year, which they just might find useful. Already the top 26 billionaires own more than 50% of the world's population Of course this doesn't actually do much for a population of roughly 7.7bn and rising, but with exponential advances in technology, rising inequality, and rising hordes of the unemployable (simply down to technology doing so much work faster, better, and cheaper) there should be more talk about the existential and societal crisis which will descend on us. When that unfortunate self-inflected trauma dovetails with the self-inflected upheaval of climate change... well, might just order another bucket of popcorn.

Boris for PM?

Oh, how joyous.

Inflicted by TWAGs?

Are you living somewhere inflicted by tossers, wankers, arseholes, or godsends (TWAGs)? Four options likely to be heard when conducting a survey about neighbours. Whether you live in a palatial detached castle, or hunker down in the most kafkaesque blocks of flats many call home, horror stories abound when it comes to living by neighbours and the squabble-some descents into feuds.

Before i get totally carried away, it would be highly negligent of me to ignore those occasions which are scattered like hens teeth amongst swill, where we live by neighbours who are godsends of enlightenment.

When neighbours feud there is a high probability that noise will be somewhere in the top three of probable causes. For the most part this is down to the way buildings have been designed and constructed over the centuries, either from the observance of shoddy building practices and the need of making a quick buck, or from the use of shoddy materials again for the same reason, or when they were built who knew, or the management/freeholders of a building have failed to ensure that the covenants of leases pertaining to flooring are actually enforced; which they are generally quite loathe to do, until they're kicking and screaming in the flames of legal redress.

So why this particular piece? My usually quiet (except for the ‘if it has a hinge it must be made for slamming’) neighbours, decided it was a good idea to throw a party. Nothing wrong there you might say. True, apart from the fact that they didn’t bother to invite me, which is understandable and fair enough. Nor did they bother to drop a scribbled note saying as such, on the back of some junkmail they’d received and couldn’t be bothered to throw away, through the still functioning letterbox.

The party started. Surprisingly the first three hours were tolerable. If the party had remained close to that for the rest of the evening, it would have been enjoyable night for all concerned. At some point after the third hour, the booze and happy makers had reached their zenith, as noise levels finally breached the 65 decibels mark causing the screen on the monitoring app to turn yellow.

The noise from the party continued to rise. I was reluctant to increase my headset’s volume, as that might have resulted in hearing damage. Instead i removed it and switched the computer's speakers on. The aim was not to fully drown out the unwanted external sound, but allow me to hear what i was listening to without the potential degredation of hearing. Initially, i couldn’t hear the sound from the speakers with any clarity (noise from the party), so i whacked up the volume slider until the sound output ranged from 45 to 50 decibels. I’m sure many of you with an interest in the more technical aspects of sound, must be shaking your heads and wondering have i lost the plot. For reference, the level for background music and normal conversion in a room is stated as 60 decibels. So my four 8 x 10… cm speakers, pumping out 50 decibels, could be viewed as being well within reasonable levels. 

Sadly, due to the paper-bag nature of the dwellings the volume from the speakers was sufficient to reach their ears. The reaction was almost instant. An increase in stamping, especially by a female guest at the party, who seemed to take exceptional umbrage at the 45 - 50 decibels levels drifting towards her ears. There was a ratcheting of door slams. Objects being dropped on the floor. All mixed with general laughter and momentous hilarity.

Noise levels from the party started peaking at 73 decibels, just 9 decibels short of the all time great of 81 decibels, which was secured by the previous tenants. The screen on the app turned fluorescent red.

So how did the noise generated by the party compare to a gang of motorcyclists driving by? At approximately 10:09 am the following day, one such gang obliged. The bikers managed to zoom by at roughly 63.9 decibels, 10 decibels softer than the peak of the party, which is actually quite a feat.

What about the four words which started this fervid piece? It was whilst reading a press release of a survey from Slater & Gordon Lawyers, where two thirds of respondents said they were living by nuisance neighbours, and the overheard frayed heated words that regularly take place in the cheek by jowl cities, we lovingly call home. The following graph is a breakdown of the most pressing neighbourly concerns.

Source: data from Slater & Gordon Lawyers

I should count myself lucky, i only have the first and last ones… although, pets (and humans, if the attached toilet paper was any indication) defecating underneath windows, and footballs being thrown/kicked against windows, might just be included in the second and fourth… dammit!

Not sure when that survey was done except recently. So how have things changed over the years? In 2011, jill insley wrote a piece in the guardians money blog called “Everybody needs good neighbours … but few seem to have them.” The issues reviewed at the time found that three in five people were annoyed by loud voices or arguments, blaring music and tv’s. A quarter were irritated by door slamming. Another quarter by noisy pets. And one in five by hearing their neighbours having sex. Let me see, loud voices - check, door slamming - check, pets - check, neighbours having- god dammit, not again!

Somewhat overheard - April 2016

The then employment minister pritti patel mp on the today program 28 april 2016, talking to sarah montague.

"I'm talking about…  rolling back workers rights… It was the British Parliament and British Governments that have stood up and introduced… regulations and red tape, and the cost of regulations and red tape, on British businesses. I'm speaking about small businesses and regulations… regulations and those rules… what is appropriate, and what is not appropriate… I’ve already said several times we'd have full… regulations and meddlesome… red tape… regulations… regulations… regulations… These are regulations that stand up… and be outvoted constantly.”

In alternate reality 45823....

“Before we begin our next show 'Orange is the old Lemon', breaking news from the leafy suburbs of Slurry Peath. Hildabrad, just what is going on?”

“Yes, good evening Daviard. We are just outside the home of constituent mp Mr Cove. We have been led to believe that he will soon be making a statement, regarding. Wait, hold on. The front door has just being opened a crack; and yes, Mr Cove's shiny pate is peeking out, and I can confirm that his mouth is moving. Quick point it over the there.”

"...my name is Michael Cove, and I have a confession. I took cocaine 20 years ago when I was working in a pig farm, and I was so off my tits that I might have made sweet happy love to Betsy, once or twice. It was a mistake, over which I experience deep re-. No, sod it. It was the happiest years of my life. Vote for me, to ensure everything's all legalised, tested for purity, and taxed the same as alcohol and cigarettes. Buy two, and get your own Betsy for free. Vote for me!"

Dimensional porkies