I moved into a house where part of the boundary was the rear end of the neighbour's brick shed. A previous owner had planted ivy against that - it was a mature plant.
Mindful of the neighbour, I kept that ivy under control with regular trimmings.
I broke an elbow and had my arm in a sling. Worried about keeping the neighbour happy, I went out to the back garden and used my one good arm to trim the ivy. It looked fab after I'd finished - an emerald green swarth, only one layer of ivy.
I noticed the neighbour watching from her top window.
After I'd finished trimming it all, she came down and called over a section of the boundary fence. She told me that her shed had damp, that it was caused by the ivy and demanded that I take it down.
This was the first that she'd said anything in the two years I'd lived there and she'd deliberately waited until I'd exerted myself cutting it one-handed.
If she'd only said when I'd moved in, it would have been down.
I used my one good hand to peel off all the ivy. I tried to use my secateurs to cut along the base before applying weedkiller, but wasn't strong enough. I was weeping with frustration. I called a friend and he took his hedgecutter to the bottom and did it for me.
When my broken elbow had recovered, I tackled the section of tall boundary hedge which was entirely on my side of the boundary.
I made a lovely job of cutting the top and my side. I then squeezed myself between the cotoneaster hedge and the fence and hacked her side to bare wood, using my loppers.
An hour later, I heard "Wha done that?! Wha done that?! What a mess!"
I did let it grow back, but my initial petty revenge made me feel better.