B*stards! 8 am, every morning but sunday! I now no longer need an alarm clock, as I am awakened by the wonderful sound of the buzzsaw outside my room tearing into plyboard or if i'm very lucky, sheet steel. Saturday morning was the last straw;
buzzsaw + sheetsteel + hangover = hell.
Is there nothing short of killing them that I can do??
[hr]The reason I'm holding on to the floor of the pub is that if I let go, I shall slide off of the world.