IT was about 11pm when what appeared to be the nightshift started work in the flat above me writes Andrew Mosley

Whhiiirrrr-clank, whiiirrrr-clank, whiiirrr-clank.

It didn't particularly bother me as I was watching some football highlights at the time and pondering the potential success of an anti-burglar device that had come my way.

This particularly useful commodity includes four CDs featuring everyday household sounds. Not likely to trouble McFly much in the sales department.

The aim of it, supposedly, is to persuade any potential invadee that someone is in your house when actually you are out. It must have been a real Eureka! moment when this was invented.

Manchester Utd were two-down against Lyon of France as I began looking at the selection of sounds available. It didn't take long for me to eliminate the possibility of using the DIY CD to any great effect.

Absolutely no-one would believe that any sawing, chiselling or hammering was taking place in an abode of mine. And anyway the flat I live in is rented so any work I did carry out would probably incur the wrath of the landlord.

Another of the CDs includes conversation - also unlikely as I never have any visitors, although I could, of course, be talking to myself using my untapped acting skills to project several different voices across a room - and the noises of household appliances such as the washing machine, TV and radio. This does beg the question as to why you can't just leave the actual TV switched on in the first place.

Playing it, I realised that some of the sounds were marginally better than those contained within, say, a Westlife album, to use a random example. Thinking about it, a Westlife CD would probably prove a more than effective burglar deterrent.

The whole concept seems a bit odd, as a quick look through a window would be enough to confirm to a burglar that the tile-cutting sounds emerging from my tile-free living room were fake. However, he may, of course, flee the area under the impression the place was haunted.

By now, Manchester Utd had pulled it back to two each and my interest in the game was waning as I feared they may actually win. I decided to go to bed.

Midnight and the noise was still there: whiiirrr-clank, whiiirrr-clank, whiirrrr-clank. No problem, it will stop in a minute, I thought.

An hour later, it was going stronger and appeared to have been joined by a mate. Whiiirrrr-whiiirrr clank-clank, whiirrr-whiiirrr clank-clank.

It was really beginning to get to me now to the extent that I was monitoring the rhythm and counting in the next cycle: "Whhi(1)rrr(2)-whi(3)rrr(4) clank(5)-clank(6). 1-2-whi..." You get the picture. Actually you don't, you only get the sound if you put on the burglar-repelling CD, but that's another matter.

But what the hell was this noise? By 3am I had decided it was a computer printer. The guy above obviously works by day, writes by night and was printing off all 720 pages of his modern day take on The Holy Bible.

I have seen him around though and, without meaning to be offensive, he doesn't look like a budding author. No ponytail, see.

At 4am, it occurred to me that it could be an industrial sewing machine. The fact that there seemed to be two of them in operation meant he was obviously operating some sort of sweat shop. "I'll grass him in to the council tomorrow," I decided.

I never did get any sleep.

At 7.15 I heard the door of his flat slam shut. The noise suddenly ceased. Obviously, he had gone out.

Then I heard footsteps above me, which suggested he had actually just come in.

Perhaps he had been out all night and just left his Now That's What I Call Household Sounds Vol 26 CD on...at full volume.

If that is the case, please don't do it again.