OBL's Neighbours Underwhelmed by the Noise

From Your Embedded Correspondent

It seems that life in Abbottobad may have been Abnotsobad.

"We all knew there was something at the pink end of the weirdo spectrum happening in that joint," said a gum-chewing teen that your correspondent found dawdling through the small military town 60kms north of Islamabad. "I mean, over the last few weeks we were kinda getting used to all the noise: you know, the pool parties, the barbeques on Saturday afternoons, the Harleys doing burn outs in compound driveway." The boy gestured to the 15 foot walls studded with bullet holes. "And those bloody Nirvana CD's! Was I getting sick of them. Still, it was better than that whole Beastie Boy thing a couple of months back. I mean, alright: so you've 'Got a Right to Party.' Enough already."

Your correspondent pushed for more detail, and after a twitch of a nose-ring, our source was happy to oblige.

"So with all that crap going on since last October, you can imagine what I thought when I heard the explosions the other night. 'Oh Bugger, not more bloody fireworks! And isn't Bon Scott's birthday in July anyway?' But then I saw the Amercian special forces guys with night-vision goggles and assault rifles abseiling out of UH-60 Blackhawk Helicopters and I knew almost straight away that something wasn't quite right. I mean, not matter how loud the party is, the fuzz around here never come down that hard!"

The young man was also one of the first into the mansion after the raid. His chilling, eye-witness account will scorch itself into the memory of all who have heard it.

"And what a bloody mess that was! Of course, I get the sense it wasn't all that neat to start with. The glass table with the fondue set hadn't been touched, but it still had all that white powder on it with the the rolled up dollar bills. And I'm pretty sure it's not standard Commando Black Op's procedure to bring your own goat just to put footprints up the wall with motor oil. But even so, they sure smashed up the place. I'd never seen that gooey stuff inside a lava lamp before, and the satin sheets on the heart-shaped bed were so messed up that it took those three, poor young ladies forever to find all their underwear. Those barstards had even cracked the mirror on the ceiling. And my God, the Rug! You know how hard it is with whiskey stains!"

And so, did the young man ever suspect the identity of the man involved?

"His minders had been running this misinformation thing for years but you know, it's a funny thing. I just didn't buy it. I mean, we all know that Hugh Hefner is red-hot on Central Asian languages, but surely with his coin there's easier ways to brush up on his Urdu."