Britain's got talent but the tone deaf electrician working next door certainly has not got any

Maybe they teach it at trade schools: here's your plaster, here's your trowel, now whistle like a demented bird with a wing trapped in barbed wire and intersperse it with out of tune warbling of some song that you only know one line to and no one else has ever heard.

Plasterers, electricians, plumbers (I once had the misfortune to have a plumber arrive with what at first appeared to be a huge tool chest but was, in fact, a sound system big enough to host a party in the average urban park) and of course brick layers.

Maybe he's fallen down a hole in the floor and is actually crying out in pain. It's hard to tell above my own screams of Munchian anguish.