It's Official, I'm changing the name of street where I live. As of now, it'll be referred to in all correspondence as "Jerry Springer Street". It's been one of those days/weeks/months where the name now suddenly seems wholly accurate.

  As regular readers probably know, I've already written about the one who sounds like an epileptic squirrel, the cretins who think it's easier to sit and beep horns or yell in the street rather than knocking on fucking doorbells, and the little sods with fireworks. It's not the best area in the world, I can't deny that, but nor is it the worst - also, not by a long way. (Although Manchester does have some stunningly grotty areas!)

  But today's pretty much topped it all, what with one thing and another. Overnight the squirrel was hyperactive - good for her, lousy for my sleep patterns - I reckon it must be coming up to time for them to start hibernating (PLEASE GOD!) so maybe they're making up for future lost time. It doesn't bode well for the next couple of weeks, but hell, it's getting cold now, so it won't be long before they go comatose 'til spring.

  Come 8 o'clock this morning, there were then the shitheads outside revving their engines. I don't mind, maybe the battery was flat in one vehicle or something. But both of them just sat outside, revving away at max volumes, for 20 minutes? At 8am? On a fucking Saturday? No, that's taking the piss. If the battery needs charging then fuck off out and give it a decent run, don't just sit in front of your house and beat the everloving shit out of the engine. It's a pointless exercise, and all it'll end up with is a car with a fuck-off great big hole in the radiator, and/or flat tyres. Well, it will do if they keep on doing it, I reckon. Hell, it might even not be me that does it.

  After all, it also obviously woke up the other neighbours of mine (not the squirrel, the other one) and didn't do a good job of it, because they were grouchy as hell too. So by half nine, I'm also being treated to the joys of their latest domestic. It used to be that I could set my clock by their domestics, that 9.30am on a Sunday was the time for a row. Even my parents have been left breathless with laughter when they stayed up here, because the sheer volume and triviality were utterly stunning. I've heard full "Jumbo Jet taking off" decibel arguments about who does the wrong thing with the toilet seat - Up or Down, and it's earth-shattering effects on the World. I can't remember what the one was when my parents were here, but it was of a similarly brain-asphyxiating level of tedium.

  This one, though, was better. I don't know what kicked it off - nor do I care. The volume was impressive, though, and the revelations in it were - well, more than I needed to hear... (you'll have to imagine the Mancunian accents, I'm afraid - I'll do what I can to help)
    Man: "Go on then, fook off, leave me alone"
    Woman: "BurrI'm Pregnnaaaaaaant!"
    Man: "I don't give a fook. Now fook off!"
  It's been one of those days.

  To top it off, the icing on the cake, the Jerry on the Springer, the real reason for writing this...

   As I'm leaving the house (domestic shopping, blah blah) there's another domestic going on at the end of the street. Nothing hugely special, seperated couple, father taking kids out for the day/weekend, and for whatever reason, he's arguing with the ex. On the street, with people watching, and the kids seeing it all. Round here, it seems to be the kind of thing that qualifies as "outdoor entertainment".

  But nearly an hour later, when I got back home, they were still going at it. Except now they're busy beating each other up. The police are there, but sitting around - they don't get involved in domestics unless they turn really nasty, and this one doesn't qualify, the parents are doing the slapping, but it's not a proper physical fight, there's no blood, so they leave it alone. Breach of the Peace is the maximum offence, and it's not worth the time on paperwork etc., so they just sit there. But the kids are still in the car, strapped into their car-seats. That's what got to me more than anything, that they're still just sat there, not able to get out of the car, and they looked upset, scared, just not knowing what was going on.

  I find that always gets to me - that people are prepared to fight like that in front of their kids. That they're prepared to fight like that at all, well, that bugs me, but I know it happens. But in front of kids? It must affect them, and it makes me wonder why the parents have that little regard, that little consideration for their children, for the future of those children. How will they turn out, if that's what they know as normal? Is it a cycle that can be broken, will they see the violence they've grown up with, and be determined to live a different life? Or Is it a self-fulfilling prophecy, a circle of experience? I suppose only time will tell, in the long run...