A word with Frank


Frank was at it again. He always applied his laser focus on all the goings on and off site. All outside. The mysterious events that caught his eye demanded his full attention. Well as much as could be mustered in light of Covid-19 restrictions. He couldn’t swan about down there in person, interfere like he likes to or indeed, interact in any way other than spy on their every move. Some of whom sought a word with Frank.

The they and their were them and those. The folks, the gents, the silly old ladies, the young hoodlum types with what seemed to be a continuation of the drug trade, or the gardeners who didn’t appear to have any fucking idea of what they were doing. The crazy and poorly executed car parkers, the let’s do a short cut through private property and the old buggers racing about on their electric mobility scooters.

The Council rubbish contractor knew what he was doing though as he smashed the bins about 40 times when he emptied them. Not to forget the local supermarket trolley collector, who’s sole job of collecting trollies seemed impossible for them to accomplish. Frank went on.

This on meant Frank chattered away to himself, a lot more often than normal. 

Suddenly and without any noise, two men appeared at Frank’s door. Now you might wonder how did he know they were there, well he was peeking out through the spy hole in the door when these men appeared, poof they were there. Not so much gay but sudden and without noise. This frightened the literal shit out of Frank, he staggered to the bathroom and just managed to expose his bare arse to the toilet bowl water as his own version of his water broke.

The smell and noise alerted the two men that someone was home so they bashed on the door. They had transferred their aggressive nature from the basement carpark to the second level as deftly as Grandma makes her tea and had done for 60 years. They had much practice. The reason for their ride in the lift was now tied up in the basement storeroom. She had made the mistake of being friendly, she was, they weren’t.

Frank managed to complete the evacuation, the wiping, the softening, the hand wash ( very important ) and made his ginger way to the door.   

“Hello, can I help you?” … Frank offered in a manly voice, well as much as he could.

“Yes Sir, we’re from Alansvale Police and would like to talk with you about activities in this building, we’re talking with all residents.”

“Oh, well OK” … said Frank, “Hang on” 

He opened the door and two room sized young men walked in one at a time, the two could not stand side by side in the apartment, let alone the door or hallway. They manoeuvred their way into the largest part of unit 2204 and began to tell their tale.

“Frank, we’re not actually from the Police but we deal with them enough to know that they wouldn’t be pleased if we didn’t advise you of your rights. 

“Is that OK?”





They handed him a card with information from Queensland Legal Aid – What are my rights.

https://www.legalaid.qld.gov.au/Find-legal-information/Criminal-justice/Police-and-your-rights/Being-arrested#toc-what-are-my-rights–2

If you’ve been arrested you should be aware of the following:

  • You have the right to know that you’re under arrest and for what kind of offence. The police must tell you this at the time of the arrest.
  • You don’t have a choice about going with the police—they can force you to go with them and can use reasonable force to carry out an arrest.
  • If you resist arrest you’re breaking the law (unless you can prove the arrest was unlawful)
  • You have the right to be taken to court for a bail application as soon as reasonably possible.
  • You have the right to ask the police for bail if you don’t go straight to court.
  • If the police wish to question you about an indictable offence (a serious offence that can go to the higher courts) you have the right to contact a friend, relative or lawyer and the police must delay questioning for a reasonable time (usually up to 2 hours) to allow this.

Frank was impressed with this apparently professional interaction even if the temperature in the room had dropped considerably as the sunlight had been blocked by these two block of flats sized gentlemen overpowering his apartment.

Frank read the card and said, rather stupidly … “Well, that sounds acceptable”. 

“Yes, said block of flats sized Number one, that’s good because we don’t offer you any of those. We will squeeze your pathetic bloodied head into your microwave oven if we so decide, do you understand?

“Uh yes” … stammered Frank, who was suddenly aware that not only did he not see any identification from these super sized humans, Number two had a tattoo on his face proudly offering “Fuck You” in that very popular Blackletter font 5 cm tall. It was rather striking and Frank couldn’t understand for the life of him, which was now at risk, why he didn’t realise the relevance of the tattoo before. 

Number one and Number two weren’t Police of course. They were angry men, working for other often very angry men and women. The local Alansvale pub notice board advertised their services:

Men for Hire

  • Does your neighbour, boss, spouse or random  people need a talking to? 
  • Do they need to stop their interference in your life? 
  • Do they need to stop looking out the window every time there is a movement in the car park of your building? 
  • Do they spy on your perfectly legal and normal movements?

Ted and Bill can help you. Their unique size, shape, turn of phrase, body art, perceived and terribly realistic threats of violence can persuade even the most recalcitrant knob head to mind their own business. 

Frank had been clocked being a sneaky vigilant nosey bugger for too long, so other tenants, the gardeners, the drug dealers, the sex workers, the car parkers and short cut takers had pooled their money and hired Ted and Bill to sort Frank out.  Even those old buggers with the scooters saved up to join in. The bill required $98.95 from each of those keen to be involved. 

The building wide newsletter explaining the need for money to stop the incessant peeking arrived in Franks letter box as well. Good he thought. We can’t have an interfering old codger upsetting everyone, so he contributed his $98.95 with the others. 

Ted and Bill had some more vibrant, violent words with Frank. They discussed his annoying habits, how he could stop them, with what and just how he could replace such annoying behaviour. At the end, as they did with all their high rise visits, they grabbed Frank and held him out over his balcony. This provided a view that Frank hadn’t experienced before, but while pulling him back in they broke his arm. 

This was not part of the service and could attract the attention of the real Police. Ted and Bill used their 3rd party insurance company to provide medical aid to Frank and they popped in a bit of extra money as compensation. 

The peeking stopped, those being peeked upon were happy, Ted and Bill were happy that Frank didn’t report them or sue and Frank was happy. He developed a new hobby. He wrote angry letters to people he thought deserved them.

His comprehensive list included, but was not limited to:

  • The folks, the gents, the silly old ladies, 
  • The young hoodlum types with what seems to be a continuation of the drug trade 
  • The gardeners who didn’t appear to have any fucking idea of what they were doing. 
  • The crazy poorly executed car parkers, 
  • The let’s do a short cut through private property 
  • The old buggers racing about on their electric mobility scooters and;
  • The Council