[Editor's note: This is the year's final contribution from our lone semi-regular correspondent from Linkoping, Sweden. It demonstrates at the very least that guitars are just as loud and neighbors are just as offended in any country...]

We have a very special relation, my guitar and me. We've got a rare combination of love, hate, joy and frustration going. A relation on a completely different level is the one between my guitar and my neighbors. In this case I'm afraid I have to rule love and joy out - here we're talking about pure hate and extreme frustration!

Let us call my guitar Miss L. Like a certain world leader I feel that people shouldn't intrude in my private life, still they tend to do so as soon as "my" Miss L is in the picture. According to them, the public interest is more important than personal integrity in this case. As a result of this, the neighborhood's "Miss L Watch Out and Alarm Patrol" was founded a few months ago. And it really works well! Every time I get the groove going I hear angry knocks on my door and I know it's just a matter of seconds before my private life once again will be turned inside out. There they are, my beloved next door darlings, just waiting for me to show up so they can hang me out to dry. I always open the door with the intention to deny it all as long and hard as I can. Sooner or later (usually later) I have to confess that I've been playing with Miss L again.

But I never give up without a fight! And when it comes to situations like this, I'm an old war-hero, decorated and all, so I use the master plan I've figured out over the years. The master plan consists of several adjustable tactics aiming towards solely one thing - Victory! Within the framework of the master plan, I have a colorful palette of different techniques to choose from, each and every one of them carefully tested on the battlefield. With such a wide range of options at hand I can allow myself to burst off into verbal jams lacking both rhyme and reason and that's exactly what I do!

So, here we are, the MLWAP people are outside my door, and it's time for some action.

I carefully open the door a few inches and shout: "I don't want to buy anything. I've already met Jesus. I've got everything I need. Thank you and good night." Then I quickly close it again and listen for their steps to fade away. It never works and after a while I just have to deal with them. I open the door. "What on earth do you think you're doing?" or "Have you lost it completely?" are some of the frequently used opening phrases they throw at me. "Well, good evening to you too!", I say and grasp my breath.

It's time to give them my Big Speech, proving my innocence. This is plan A. Total denial. "Yeah, I've heard it too! It's unbelievably annoying, isn't it? You people want me to deal with the bastard?" I have to talk fast and convincing. The critical point in my speech comes after approximately 30 seconds. If they don't buy my arguments within that limited period of time, I kick in plan B so fast they don't know what hit them. Smoke, lots of smoke is the keyword here.

Plan B: A totally different strategy. I pretend I never even tried to pull the plan A stunt. Plan A is wiped out of my consciousness. While the state of confusion remains, it's time to start pleading for understanding. "Well, folks, you see, I have a $ 200 bet going with my friends. I said it would be a piece of cake to learn how to play "Punch You In The Eye" - this song you've been suffering from all night - by Wednesday. I found some really good tabulature. What? oh, tabulature is like a map over how to play a song. Anyway, I found it on the Internet, and it said the only way to actually learn how to play the song right, was to turn the volume up real loud. Since I can't afford to lose $ 200, I had to choose between not eating properly for a month or play loud for a couple of nights. Please bear with me, please! I swear it won't happen again." (Trying to look like a cute little puppy or something.)

At this point my neighbors sigh, then they start all over again, clearly not pleased with my lame excuse. I know exactly what they're going to say "If you don't put and immediate end to this terrible noise you claim to be music, we'll make sure you get thrown out of this building in no time! You wanna bet about that too? We've had it with you and your guitar, so face it pal, this is your last chance!" Clearly they're very upset, and they're now talking so loud that every one in the building can hear them. I'm fully exposed. People standing at their doors listening, keeping their fingers crossed. The madman on the top floor is finally going down!

Anger! Yes! Now it's an open road! From here things can only get worse - for them! The good thing is that they started it, well, not exactly started it from the beginning but at least they started the yelling.

I have to focus my thoughts for a few seconds, then I turn plan C loose.

Plan C: Time to attack, carefully aiming at the lower levels of their souls. Find a weak spot and squeeze it hard! "You wanna talk about disturbing noises? I hear your TV-sets so loud and clear that I sometimes can't hear what I'm thinking. From what I hear I know you're always watching stupid, pathetic, talk-shows, so I decided to lighten up your evening with a few riffs! Think of this whole incident as an alarm clock for your souls. Actually you should be thanking me for forcing you to do some thinking of your own for once. What is the matter with you folks? Don't you ever want to have some fun? Come on, live life on the edge - watch the Simpsons or something! Break your boring little habit and dance! My guitar rocks!"

An attack like this usually causes some kind of reaction. The expression on their faces turns into how I pretty much imagine that people who've nearly been struck by lightning look just moments before they say "sweet Jesus" and pass out. Now the entire building knows that these people really enjoy Ricki Lake and other high-quality entertainment. I can see they're embarrassed, and I can afford to give them a gentle smile - the kind that drives people crazy. I'm on top of the situation, and they just know it too well.

Now they change attitude and start talking to me, as if they were reasoning with a three year old, about different noises, and whether these noises should be considered normal "family noises" or not. This is the hard part. A serious discussion on a polite level. I can feel their frustration, and I know that they really have a good reason to complain. It always ends with me having to admit that an electric guitar with plenty of feedback and wah-wah sounds, played on an 80w Marshall amp, hardly fits in among the other, more ordinary sounds in the building.

Plan C usually turns out to be a major bummer. I end up in a situation where I only have two options. Go on playing the angry-game or simply beg them to forgive me. If they turn polite first, I have to follow. These people are serious and it would be most unwise to push the limits any further. This is as fine as a line can get. One more word in the wrong direction from me would be like practicing Bungy Jumping without a rope. There would be no Bung - just Geeeeee! What first looked like a 5 lane highway turned out to be a narrow dead-end street, and here at the end of it all I see is a big, fat brick wall, and all I want to do is turn around and get the hell out of here. I have to get a grip of the situation before it's too late.

Plan D now sets in automatically. Time for remorse. I have to admit my total failure and how astonishingly stupid I can be, playing the guitar like this. They love to hear me admit I was wrong, so I say it a couple of times just to make them feel good. What they don't realize is that this is where I win. The victory is mine simply because they think they've defeated me!

A discussion ending in anger causes immediate action from their side. They wouldn't hesitate to call the landlord in the middle of the night, and that's about the worst thing that could happen. My landlord is the kind of man who can melt steel just by looking at it. The less I see of him, the better it is. So, plan D is not only a most delicate matter, in fact it's my lifeline.

If plan D is carried out properly it usually cuts me the slack I need to survive as a tenant a little while longer. The only problem is that its success is dependent upon the actions of two people over whom I have no control what so ever. (Since they apparently seem to lack every sign of self-control as well, I need a whole lot of luck to pull this one off.) Two college boys live downstairs from me, and usually they manage to throw a weekday party so wild that it measures somewhere around 6.3 on the Richter Scale, before the landlord is made aware of my behavior. The neighborhood's "Weekday Party Unanimous Wrecking Patrol" (of which "Miss L watch out and Alarm Patrol" is a fraction) usually decides to make Miss L a low priority issue for an extended amount of time if one of those parties is held in close connection to a guitar-incident. All their efforts are put into executing the college boys instead of me. If the boys for some reason don't party their asses off the following nights after a guitar- incident, flowers usually help achieving a temporary cease-fire.

The following weeks I just have to keep a low profile and let the boys downstairs do their thing. All full tilt guitar-related activities are carried out in the rehearsal room or with the boring headset on at all times. I make myself invisible and inaudible.

As soon as I've figured out a new variation of plan A-D, it's just to start all over again! Right now I've got some great ideas for the solo on Juggling Suns' "Wicked History" that I've got to try out! I also have a brand new plan on how to talk my way out of the situation if things get out of hand. The master plan is as near perfection as it can be! Since I think several members of "Miss L Watch out and Alarm Patrol" will be away over the weekend, it's a great opportunity for me to put some VFW into it! Dear Miss L requires a lot of quality time and that's exactly what I'm going to give her! I've been silent long enough!

(VFW = Volume, Feedback, Wah-Wah)