Found it: The Adventures of Rufus, the World's Worst Burglar.

Incidentally, Gabe's prediction came true - he was still living next door when we moved out almost six months later, and still pissing us off over the fence. One day, not long after the burglary, I cam home from uni on foot, not in the car (the tail-end of August 2001, my month from hell - a week or two after the burglary, while I was in the depths of the worst flu of my life, we crashed our car).

Because I walked into the yard, there was no noise to alert Rufus, who was happily chatting to his little bastard brother and throwing lollies* out of his bedroom window and into our yard. Apart from the the idiocy of wasting perfectly good confectionary, he was messing up our yard. I walked up quietly, gathered up the lollies, and threw them back over the fence. He made some smart-arse comment, and I walked off. Sure enough, he started throwing them again as soon as I turned my back. I turned, gathered them up again, and threw them as hard as I could, over the fence and through his open bedroom window. I heard them hit the far wall with quite a lot of force.

He then said something along the lines of "What's your problem?" and I replied that I didn't like thieveing little bastards throwing stuff into my yard. He claimed that he didn't burgle my house. I mentioned the chair against the fence. He said the thieves left it there when they ran across his yard. I asked why they didn't just go straight over the back fence. he didn't answer. I then asked why the stolen goods were in his bedroom. He didn't answer.

Twat.

* lollies = plural (singular lolly), small, individual pieces of confectionary. Would be called "candy" by Americans.

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We were introduced by someone, I think KKP or something, you were this short stalky guy with short hair and glasses, like a very young George Castanza.

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Dad was flammable

Hmm... Short stocky guy. I'm six foot four and about four stones underweight. It sounds like the guy you met was my evil cousin Hans_vs_Kramer.

I just had a dream where lara7 and I were the comedy police, busting people who told jokes without a licence

Seriously? If so, be thankful for that subconscious of yours - kick-arse dream! :)

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This signature has performed an illegal operation and has been shut down.

Yep, seriously. We were both fresh out of the academy. I remember that she was the snarky rookie-with-an-attitude, and I was the "straight man of the team" if you will.

Oh good. I'd hate to be the straight man, this picture not withstanding.

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When they invent BookFace, I'm -there-.

I had a dream about Gabe last night (no, not that kind of dream, this time). We were next-door neighbors. Gabe's house was immense and included a really cool workshop area in the back yard, complete with an area with a hydraulic lift for his mammoth SUV. (I saw him washing the SUV while it was up on the lift.) For some reason, I decided it would be fun to start stealing stuff from Gabe's house. (I don't remember what kind of stuff.) I would sneak around Gabe's house like a ninja while he was in the back yard working on something. Upon returning from one of my forays, I saw Gabe in my back yard, trying to steal my lounge chaise. He just grinned and dropped it and headed back to his house.

That's all I remember.

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"And Wirthling isn't worth the paper he isn't printed on."

A couple of weeks ago me and a couple of mates bought some really strong weed, straight from the plant. Since we started smoking it, we've remembered EVERY SINGLE fucked up dream, every night. Which I think is really fucking cool.

Anyway, a couple of nights ago I had a dream that I was really thirsty, and I was in a bar. I went up to the bar and behind the barman was a massive pyramid of Fanta, just really cold cans of Fanta. I asked the guy "can I have a can of Fanta please?" and he said that they didn't have any. I asked him repeatedly, and pointed at the huge stack, but he appeared to be unable to see it. I asked for a beer and he told me it wasn't "that kind of bar".

anyway, quite pissed off I decided to try and break in round the back, where I met this gang who were also trying to break in. The leader of which was a skinhead pschopath who was trying to blow the place up. He kept calling me 'Kajun' and claimed that he was Boorite. I knew he wasn't, but when I challenged him his cronies all shouted at me. He lit the fuse to this cheap homemade bomb and I took cover and it exploded, killing everyone, I ran away with rubble and flames falling all around me, then ran into my house.

end of dream.

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Dad was flammable