After a fun gig in Cranleigh (no, IÂ’d never heard of it either, but it has an Arts Centre and a Pizza Express so it canÂ’t be bad) I went round to DianeÂ’s flat for some late night wine. She lives in a little quadrangle style courtyard where flats face each other, accessed by a small gate with a sign on it reminding visitors to shut it once they have walked through it. Perhaps I closed it a little bit loudly, to be honest if I did I donÂ’t recall, but it was 1am and thatÂ’s my best guess as to how I might have annoyed one of her neighbours.
Because as I approached Diane’s door a loud voice came out of the opened window of one of the flats opposite, saying one word. The word was “Bastard!”
Now there is every chance the word was not directed as me. It might have been the one word from a heated argument that happened to float out into the courtyard. It might even have been coming out of a TV or something. But I am pretty sure that one of DianeÂ’s neighbours was taking time out of his busy day to let me know that he thought that I was a bastard. This may have been to do with the gate, or other noise I had thoughtlessly made (and that I hadnÂ’t noticed myself). Or maybe he had seen me out and about with Diane and was justifiably jealous of my unbelievable luck (she is indeed a wonderful and attractive woman and much more than I deserve on every level) and his frustration at her choice was finally vented in a not very rude swear-word. I could understand that. If she wasnÂ’t going out with me and I saw her going out with someone as not good enough for her as me, I would be annoyed that she had chosen the wrong unsuitable person.
Maybe the man opposite her had just seen some of my comedic work and was making an appraisal of it and me.
Or possibly he had found out that the man I think is my father, was not actually my biological parent and had been trying to find the most sensitive way of imparting this information to me. And had decided that simply shouting the descriptive word that explained what I was through an open window in the middle of the night was probably the easiest for us both.
I didnÂ’t let it get to me too much. I was more interested in drinking some wine and enjoying a few more valuable minutes in the company of my wonderful girlfriend, before she realises that she is too good for me and inevitably chucks me. It could happen at any moment. I have to make the most of what little time I have left with her. Hopefully she wonÂ’t read this, because this could be just the kind of tip off that IÂ’ve been trying to prevent her from seeing.
But it is strange to be called a bastard (possibly) by a disembodied voice, for whatever reason.
ItÂ’s stealth heckling.
And there's no comeback.
