Oh lord, won't you buy me a pound of beef mince and some sausages

This story, about a singing butcher under threat from cranky neighbours, really struck a chord with me this morning. As Londonist puts it:

"It would seem that a former resident of the flat above Brian’s Meat Market had complained about the early morning chopping noises and sing-songs. And so Barking and Dagenham council have asked Brian to desist, and to sound-proof his ceiling to stop the sound rising.

We say that a) anyone who moves above a butchers’ shop should expect to move with the larks – night owls should find themselves a flat above a restaurant, and b) what the devilled kidneys is wrong with singing at work? How fantabulous to find someone happy enough in his work to express himself thus!"

I couldn't have described it better myself. Seriously, people who move into accommodation in full knowledge of the characteristics of the area - the downstairs butcher for instance, or many popular (and noisy) music venues like in Brisbane's Fortitude Valley - should not be able to decide that it doesn't suit them after all and they'd like everyone else to change their longstanding behaviour, please. Even worse, the cranky upstairs tenant has apparently moved out anyway.

I would like to know what his repertoire is though. If he's belting out Celine Dion ballads at 6am I might feel differently. I like to think he does jaunty Irish folk songs and maybe the occasional show tune.

Poor old Mr Singing Butcher. I hope he prevails.