Hoors? Yeah... Hoors. Prostitutes, Tarts, Hookers, Ladies of Negotiable Affection, call them what you will. For 8 years or so I lived in granite tenement. My Neighbours Were Hoors. Sadly for us all (!?) the brothel was closed down and I moved out of the area. I never did get around to writing about the court case though...

Wednesday, November 26, 2003

How I found out

Ok so I managed to do the first post successfully AND link my web page to it - I feel SO clever!

Now these Hoors...
Since the council put stupid great wheelie bins (great enough to house an entire brothel... never mind great enough to house their rubbish) outside our flats, we have been mercifully saved from the plague of seagulls that rip open our bin bags. Yaay. This is a good thing. Trust me on this. I remember the time when I got out of my bed one fine sunny June morning to discover the seagulls had been at my neighbours' bin bags. *shudders* It didn't take too long to figure that the strawberries and *cream* (I think you know what I mean) belonged to the GROUND FLOOR LEFT flat. Seagulls obviously find used condoms as appetising as the rest of us.

They've been there for over 5 years... I bought my flat in may 1998... Three months later I noticed the ground floor flat had their own buzzer. "Interesting..." I thought... "Obviously their buzzer isn't working either." "Oooh!" I thought... "They've got a videocamera in there too!" well that's a useful thing, isn't it?

Now at this time (I think it's important for me to point out) I worked for a popular UK company, Ann Summers. And when Thai balls come through the post? Trust me. There is only one thing in the world is weighted and shaped like Thai balls... and that's Thai balls. "Interesting..." I thought... "What broad minded neighbours I have"

One day I came into the tenement. The father of the lassie in the flat across from theirs was in the lobby. "Hello" says he, frantically making eyes at the eyeshadowed blonde peeping from behind the door of Ground Floor Left...
"Interesting" thinks I... "What red lips my neighbours have..." "What lacy underwear my neighbours have..."

A week later my buzzer goes in the middle of the night, yet again... Wrong buzzer again... "Interesting..." I say to myself... "How popular my neighbours are..."

A couple of days after that, I'm in the shower getting ready to go out "ZZZZZTTTT!!!" goes my buzzer... "Arse!" goes I... "ZZZZTTTTT!" goes my buzzer... "You're early!" cries I... and lets my friend into the flat... Except it wasn't my friend... just an edgy looking young boy looking for "Jessica." "Interesting?!" says I... "No Jessica in this block of flats..." as I shut the door in his face and my beefy next door neighbour escorts him out of the building...

Two days later my upstairs neighbour (J. for those of you in the know) had a few quiet words with me. The words were something like "Do you know what's going on on the ground floor?" and in a few seconds the penny had dropped. How dumb am I?
What would my parents think?

And so the adventure began...

My Neighbours? They're Hoors!

Ok!!!
my first blog!
I've thought of doing this from the first time I heard of blogs...

What should blogs be? Angsty obviously... I guess I could do angst...
Cutting edge? Hmmm. I can do political issues...

But the whole point of that is not to be a miserable 16 year old and whine about life... but to make a note of the activities of my NEIGHBOURS.

Yes. OHHHH how I would LOVE to have a nice little Mrs Marple character next door... Yes! I could do her shopping for her... hear about her hip... Look after her cat whilst on holiday?

But no. My neighbours are Hoors. Excuse my pronounciation (I'm Scottish)... Whores. Ladies of the night. Prostitutes...

Bawds... Call girls... Courtesans... Fallen Women... Filles de Joie... Harlots... Hookers... Hustlers... Loose Women... Molls... Pros... Streetwalkers... Strumpets... Tarts... Trollops... Women on the game... Women employed by the oldest profession... WOMEN OF NEGOTIABLE AFFECTION!!!

Which can be entertaining. Which is mainly the point of my blog.

Now don't get me wrong. I'm not against them. I'm all for them! They dust the stairs... they keep themselves to themselves... (mostly) and I respect their choice to do what they do.

"Hoor" is very much an affectionate term. And to be quite honest... they're sort of entertaining in a Monty Python/Terry Pratchett kind of way.

And I have to admit... it would be a lot easier to consider selling my flat if they weren't two floors down... but they're just so DAMNED entertaining! Always a good conversation topic in the pub... and they never fail to have a curtain-twitching show on outside in the street at least once a month...

So hopefully I can drag myself away from the window for long enough to get to the computer... Either that or due to sods law they'll move out tomorrow. Either way... I'll be happy ;)
P.