My name is Margot. I don’t think much of the new neighbours. For starters, they are foreigners and don’t fit well into the area. In fact they lower the tone of the suburb considerably. Not that I’ve anything against foreigners, but when people come to a country that is not theirs they should make some effort to fit in; meld into the surroundings. You’d think they would; that’s what rats do. Peacocks strut around, and when a peacock shows off and spreads its tail you can see its arsehole. These people strut around like they own the place.
The new neighbours, so I heard, are Antoinette and Leon from Beijing or somewhere. China anyway. You can tell these things even though they’ve taken Western names. I thought communists were meant to be not so well off, but you should see their three cars! And the house they live in (I presume they rent and don’t own, though why the landlord thinks it’s okay to rent to communists I have no idea) is one of the most lavish houses in our neighbourhood. And that’s saying something. They’ve got three young children. No wonder the world is overrun.
Here comes the one called Antoinette up my path now. Presumably she’s going to ask for a cup of noodles or something! Chop! Chop!
Ching Chong Chinaman
Coming up my path
I shall pretend to be foreign
Just for a laugh.
“Hello. My name’s Antoinette. I’m the new neighbour. I thought I’d come over and introduce myself.”
“When you come from China?”
“When you come from China to dis place?”
“From China? I didn’t. My family have been here since 1824.”