Mon 28 Apr, 22:11

I have spent today cowering for my life in my house.

Fess up - who knew a bloke called Kyle moved into Number 23 a few weeks ago?

Double fess up - who knew he’s been pranking me to the point of DESPAIR? The dude killed my dog (RIP Noah’s Bark) in a hit and run and then totally, utterly, egged my house!!

Poor Karl at Number 22. I spent one whole week pretending to be the ghost of my dead dog and tormenting him because I thought he was my dog’s murderer. I even attacked him in his own home when I thought he’d egged mine. Turns out it was all this mysteriously monstrous Kyle at Number 23.

And for what reason?!

Who is he?! Why is he?! Where is he?! (Number 23, obviously.) What is he?! (A knobhead, by all accounts.) How is he?! (I DON’T CARE!)

Screw this. I ain’t cowering no longer.

I shall spend my week covertly learning about him and report back. After all, what is the Bramblewick Neighbourhood Surveillance if I ain’t out there surveillancing.