A little bit Borgo

When I first moved to the gloriously unkempt neighbourhood of Moulden, I likened it to the village of Bistritz in Count Dracula. During the day everything is fine, and there are kids playing in the street, people gardening, the usual suburban scene. After sunset however, you would think you were in a carriage drawn by skeleton horses racing the sun through Borgo Pass. There is the slight panic at sunset to get home and lock the gates. I haven't gone so far as to hang up garlic and throw horse shoes at passer bys.

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The point of this, is that yesterday the street was all lovely and quiet- a bit like this...

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At about 3 in the morning, approximately the time it takes to drunkenly stumble down the hill after the pubs close, the street looked more like this....
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Yes, there was a drunken group of idiots punching on in the street. The police arrived, and for an hour my bedroom was like a silent rave party with occasional muffled expletives. Then they all buggered off leaving me surprisingly wide awake. I used this time to imagine that if I could have one magical superpower it would be to teleport those bogans who ruined my night into remote areas of... say... the Sahara desert. As my inability to sleep continued, the places became more lethal such as a small air bubble in a deep sea cave or perhaps even Pluto.
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So I lay there all morning looking like this...
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(Original image link)

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While the tough guard dog and stoic husband slept soundly next to me. I tried to nudge them both 'accidentally' awake, but those two could sleep through an alien abduction of the type in the X-files that includes shaking walls, bright white lights and Moulder in the corner shouting "SAAAAAAMMMMMAAAANTHAAAAA!". In the end I fell back asleep as the sun was coming up and therefore the terror of night time in Bistritz became (once again) the benign suburban bliss of Moulden.