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, July 28, 2004

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nightime

A post being written purely because of the suitability of the Title.

It's hot just now so I'm sleeping with the windown open.
At 4.30 am this morning I was awakened by the sound of heavy breathing in my ear!

Well! This was an unexpected turn of events... However, as my brain slowly switched on, I gradually woke up to the fact that the noise was coming from outside the window and that there wasn't a panting axe murderer in my bedroom.

Fully awake I pictured some poor dog who had been tied up to the wheely bin outside our house who was (by now) pining for his otherwise-occupied master.

Right enough... at 4.45 I could hear the lovable-cockney sounds of our friendly neighbourhood hoor coming out with her punter. "Awwwwwwww innee luvvely!? Ooo's a good boy then!"

Pooch-luvvin' hoors :) yay!

Why doggies are tied outside to wheely bins and not allowed into brothels.

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