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, February 13, 2005

By Popular Request... The Naked Man

Well, I do have some other stuff to post about, but as there have been so many requests... I will tell you about the Naked Neighbour.

No idea why I didn't post it before, I guess I just didn't bother because he's not in this building. I've been seeing him regularly for about 3 years now, and me and the nice neighbour with the cool hair were talking last week when I discovered nice neighbour had been seeing him too.

Put it this way, it's pretty hard not to see him as he puts on his kitchen lights and then parades around in "the altogether!" In the nudd!

He lives on the same floor as me in the tennement across the back gardens from us. And boy he thinks he's mighty fine!

Which he actually is. He's sort of like the fat naked guy from Friends, but not fat. He's really quite buff. But I'm getting distracted.

A typical morning will go like this:

alarm: beep beeep beeeeeep!
me: surely it's only 3am
alarm: naaah. it's 7. you have to get up. you have to get up and go to work
me: fuck.
body: noooooooo!
*gets up and goes to the kitchen*
*drinks water*
*looks up*
me: Oh my! there is a semi naked man in the flat accross from me drinking water too. except he is naked from the waist up!
semi naked man: mmmm I have such a well toned torso. this is nice cool water
me: he must have slept in. hence his lack of shirt.
semi naked man: time to go
*semi naked man turns round and walks out of his kitchen showing his perfectly formed (and naked) buttocks.
me: *gasps* !?!?!??!

Tuesday, February 08, 2005

Eight Days A Week (Cleaning the stairs contd.)

Following our chat about our neighbours (remind me to tell you about the naked guy), the nice guy next door went on upstairs for a nice cup of coffee.

I continued battering about on the stairs with my brush and mop in a vague attempt to get them clean. I was almost at the ground floor, my rubber gloves now a dirty shade of pink and my attractive headscarf at a slightly disheviled angle.

And I can now positively say that Cockney Hoors have been been knocked off the number-one-hoor Spot in my affection by... Liverpuddlian Hoors! (That's the ones from Liverpool for those of you not in the know).

A beautiful Amazonian Hoor (honestly, tall and smooth skinned and elegant) and a short, grinning, toothless, dumpy old woman with the general Nanny-Ogg look had just come through the door.

"Ello chuck!" Said Nanny, her eyes twinkling. "You're doin' a right grand job thur!"

I stood up and adjusted my headscarf, "Aye! Almost done, and it's good exercise"

The Amazonian Hoor gave me a big smile and said "Well it's lookin' just loovely! We're off to dew a bit of cleanin' ahrselves!"

Right enough, they were carrying Asda bags full of cleaning products. Off they went into the flat and after some happy Liverpuddlian banter I could hear the sounds of air freshener being liberally scooshed around the flat.

I'm delighted to be able to tell you that it was soon drowned out by the sound of The Beatles' Eight Days A Week.

(For as much as I love a clean hoor, I love a good stereotype even more.)