An appeal to our neighbourhood junkie.

My accommodation block provides one old washing-machine and tumble-drier between about 25 residents. To operate either contraption, one must insert a pound coin into a box that sits on an adjacent shelf. Every so often the box is emptied by a representative of the laundry company, or more recently, trashed by a local drug addict.

You see, it appears that my fellow residents find it tricky to shut the door to a house after they have opened it. And if you are going to leave a door open in the vicinity of a drug addict you may as well put up a big neon sign saying: "Please come into my house mr. sicko - I have lots of nice things you could sell down the pub to get your next fix of crack! Whilst you're at it, why not rape my children too? And shit in my bed?" Everybody knows this.

The local constabulary have been most helpful. Although this particular individual is well known to the force, they can't be arsed doing anything about it. They suggest that we might like to try shutting the door.

Perhaps my housemates think the dishevelled, staring man with the growth on his face who loiters around our street is a property surveyor, or the gas man. Well, I'll tell you, he has not come to read our fucking gas meter - since when did gas men do their rounds with their little undernourished dogs? And since when did the fucking property surveyor shout at passing buses?

Some kind of cunning plan was needed. Why attempt to persuade my housemates to shut the door, when I can target the filth-bag directly? I just hope he can read: