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, November 13, 2005


5.30 on friday when I'd just got home from work. A sad looking man is at the front door of the tenement pressing the hoors buzzer.

I do the usual thing and sit in my car waiting for him to go in before I get out and let myself into the block of flats. (Usual unless I'm in a huff and in no way patient enough to give punters their brothel-entering privacy). I give the usual estimated amount of time before opening the door that will allow him to make his introduction to Hoor of the Week and get out of the hallway and into the hoor's flat.

So I've just got in the door and look up to see The Sad Man's face fall even more as the Hoor tells him she "cahn't do now, ye'll ave ta come back latur" and then quickly shuts the door in his face...

I had to feel sorry for the guy...

Bad enough to be a Sad Man having a bad day... but to be rejected by a Hoor?


No comments: