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 05, 2004

Gardyloo!*

My Neighbours are Hoors - and 18th Century Peasants!!!

Or so it seems anyway. You come home from a wedding. You park your car. You get out of your car and as you are locking it, you sigh as you hear the 24 Hour Party People partying with the window open. You grumble as you make your way down the street to your tennement. You panick as you hear them go "Heymin! Dinna bother waitin' fur him tae get oot! Just CHUCK IT OOT THE WINDAE!"

Was I being paranoid that I panicked and crossed the road and waited 5 minutes in the shadows before daring to tiptoe across the road and up to my flat? I didn't get covered in a bucket of pee though.


* Gardlyloo. (gär' dè lòò'). interj. (a cry formerly used in Scotland to warn pedestrians when slops were about to be thrown from an upstairs window.) [Anglicized form of F gare (de) l'eau beware of the water] (Webster's New Universal Unabridged Dictionary, © 1989 - Dilithium Press, Ltd.)

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