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...

Sunday, September 12, 2004


Just before I went away for the weekend, I was delighted to find the door to the tennement had been fixed. I was going to fluff happily on about it when I got back. I was going to stick up a notice thanking the fix-er for his/her hard work. That was on friday.


I come home today and what do i find? Some bloody bastard has kicked the door in again! I mean... HELLO!?!

Just because your druggie mates don't have a key to the tennement it doesn't mean you can just kick in the newly fixed door!

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