Da 'hood

What with yesterday's assassination of a judge, I was reminded of a certain area of southern Italy where Bob De Niro and Joe Pesci would feel more than at home. Is this what Israel is becoming? I put it all down to the Mediterranean sea breezes, or the humus. 
 
It also reminded me of my neighbourhood. Very quaint and homely. Almost charming. I was particularly smitten when out walking Z one day. My neighbour's dog, roughly the size of a bulldozer and always roaming free, had a go at young Z, so me, being the protective parent, shouted at the dog and made like I was going to give it a good kicking (didn't touch it, honest guv). My favourite neighbour, who really is the lowest form of lowlife I've ever met,  jumped out and asked if I knew who the dog's owner was. I was always under the impression that it was his, so I said, "Duh, maybe yours?". His reply? "It's Rosenstein's dog. I'm going to tell him what you just did to his dog". I smiled back. As we all know, Rosenstein is the underworld numero uno over here. If this was Rosenstein's dog, he must really care passionately about it to give it to my neighbour. And what with his busy schedule of knocking off crime rivals or ducking automatic fire directed his way, I'm sure he's going to pull up outside my house one day. Or maybe not.
 
I'm especially enamored when the same neighbour gets his skin drum out and starts serenading the entire 'hood with his latest ditty. It is usually directed at his elderly neighbour, with whom he has a real love-hate relationship. It usually goes something like this: 
 
"Your mother's p*ssy,
I hope you die soon, you son of a b*tch, you son of a b*tch"
(Repeat chorus endlessly)
 
Now, who'd like to see some pictures of my 'hood? Coz ladies and gents, it ain't all palm trees and beaches over here...