An open letter to room 21, Trenamen. (I am hoping that somehow, through my legions of devoted readers, this gets passed on)

Sex is, as has often been remarked in the tabloids of the day, a beautiful thing. It is the ultimate expression of love, devotion and intimacy that two people can share. However, as I am beginning to learn, it is great to share between one another, and a complete other thing to share with half a building.

Last night I was awoken at 1am by screams. Not moans or gasps, but full out, terrifying, piecing, Psycho shower scene screams. Obviously my first thoughts were that the occupants of the above room were agreeing with each other a lot (Yes! Yes!) whilst trying to find a lost item (That's it! Right there!). It did not take much to work out that this was not the case. Then there's the banging. I mean this in the most tasteful sense. It's like he's a British au-pair he's slamming her so hard. I can actually hear to dignity escaping the building as the guy near on cries out. Simple fact #1: I don't want to know when another guy is climaxing. Then there's more screaming, this time with more directions. Simple fact #2: I don't want to know exactly where Girl would like it.

The other incredible thing is that it happened earlier that morning, and this lunchtime. Simpe fact #3: There is a time and place for open windows. By the sounds of it (ahahahaha), it probably isn't going to stop anytime soon. This is my blogg, for a diary of my life. I shouldn't have to be a log book of a Paris Hilton wannabe and her trusty sidekick, Fucktard.

It is not much I ask of you. Please, if you have the slightest inclination to worry about those people around you, I ask one small thing. Could you please turn the sex down?

Craig