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...

Monday, January 31, 2005

My Neighbours Are Hoors: A Glossary

Thanks to all my friends in the New World for their comments and feedback - apparently sometimes I get a bit carried away though. Hear me in real life and you'd need a translator! (Comparisons to fishwives are common). Thanks to all the commenters who helped me out with translations! (McFox, Kevin) If there are any more requests, I will oblige!

So henceforth, I proudly present...


Arsed Bothered. As in "I cannae be arsed" - I can't be bothered.

Baps Breasts or a floury bread roll.

Chav Definition once again from Urbandictionary.com. Now in the Oxford English Dictionary.

Corrie Coronation Street. A British soap opera.

Dour Of Miserable Countenance.

Foosty Rotten.

"Fuck You, You Fucking Fuck!" The best insult known to mankind.

Havering Speaking nonsense. Best word ever to appear in a song by The Proclaimers.

Hoor A Prostitute. I use it as a fond substitution for "whore." Also, a "maiden" in the Quran. That's not what this blog is about though...

Ken Not a guy called Kenneth, but "to know." As in "Ah ken!" - I know! Often added on to the end of a sentance as in "I think my neighbours are running a brothel, ken?" ie "I think my neighbours are running a brothel, you know?"

Jings, Crivvens and Help Ma Boab! Exclamation used originally in the Oor Wullie/Broons comics in the terrible Scottish newspaper, The Sunday Post. Now in common use.

Laddie Also "Loon" - a young man, a boy.

Michty Me! "Oh my goodness me!" (often said with a sharp intake of breath). Used to convey shock or exhaustion.

Min Man. As in, "Give me a break, man!" Often stuck in sentences by residents of the Grey Toon for no good grammatical reason (also Like, Ken, and Fit)

Ned See also "Chav" - A young hooligan, a waster, possibly a bit like Trailer Trash. When Britney got married in a tracksuit and ate burgers, she was a Ned.

Numpti Pronounced, "Nump-Tae" - a person of limited intellect, an eejit (stupid person), someone who continually makes (the same) mistakes.

Pissed/Pished Drunk. I could write a whole new blog on the amount of words Scots have for being drunk. and hence...

Pissheid Pronounced "Piss-heed" - a person who is a frequent visitor to drinking establishments and slavers (talks with little sense being made).

Peuk To Vomit. Something you do if you have been Pished. Something little kids like to do all over our stairwell. Grrrrrrrrrrr!

Polis Police. Pronounced, "Pole-isss"
- strangers who kick down your door in the middle of the night and shout "fuck, wrang hoos!" (meaning they have had a navigational error and are in the wrong premises.

Punter A Prostitute's Client. I've been told "John" is the American equivalent.

Quine A young lady, a girl.

Slag Slut. Woman of loose morals.

Slagging Bad-mouthing. "Slagging someone off" means you're not saying very nice things about them.

Friday, January 28, 2005

Journey Home

Now I can tell you about the journey home, one week later, from the airport!

For once the taxi was organised by the company and met me at the airport. We drove home with the usual taxi driver banter and chit-chat.

Almost all the way home and I tell him where to stop. "It's easier for you to turn the taxi round here. Just drop me off here."

He pauses. (I have to sign a chit if the company is to pay for my taxi fare). I suppose he is just calculating the cost of the fare, but no. He is THINKING.

He looks me in the eye. He hands me the chit to sign.

"Tell me..." he says edgily... "I'm new to the Grey Toon. I really don't mean to be rude, but is this a Red Light District!?"

I laugh. I pick up my bags ready to leave the taxi.

"You'll be talking about the brothel on the ground floor of my tennement then?" I give him the door number.

He looks horrified. He apologies, "Oh I'm so sorry! If I'd known it was true and that you lived there, I'd never have said anything"

So I laughed. "Yes. They are working girls."

He looks a bit white in the face, like he's going to get the sack for harassing a customer. "Only, I've picked girls up from there before and they were dressed like.... like... well! I can only say they were dressed like Prostitutes!"

(There are some words only a Scot can pronounce with such utter comedy that one would see in a 1940's Ealing comedy. I have to say that he didn't say "Prostitutes!" so much as "pRRRRosTiTutes!!!!!!" like he was about to quote from the bible)

"Aye. That'll be them." I agreed.

"Haven't you reported them to the Polis!?" he askes, quite clearly shocked at how calm I am.

"They keep the hallway clean, they smile at me, they say good evening, they provide an essential service and they cause me so much less hassle than the guy below me with the stereo and the psycho friends... The police know about them. But to be honest, there's more out there for them to bother themselves about."

He replies "Ohhhh! I didnae mean ony offence... I was just suspicious. You know! I've picked up a few lassies. Drop offs. And they were... Well... Well... They were dressed like... pRRRRosTiTutes!!!!!!

"Ah just suspected. Tha's all." He grinned.

I grinned. I wished him good day.

And went to the pub.

(p.s. we passed through the red light district on the way home from the cinema last night. Hoors were out in full force. However no one legged hoor was spotted.)

Thursday, January 27, 2005

The Taxi Driver's Tale: "The One Legged Hoor!"

Just as we were sitting at the lights on the way to the airport, I asked the taxi driver one last thing.

"Now," says I. "I've heard a rumour of a one legged hoor down at the harbour. Is this true?"

I've heard this for a few years now and always thought it was just a rumour, but...

"Oh aye. There certainly is. Her ma wheels her down and leaves here there. She just sits with a short skirt and a bottle to keep her warm..."

I'll leave you to consider this.

Wednesday, January 26, 2005

The Taxi Driver's Tale: "The Ugliest Hoors Imaginable!"

Of course our hoors are classy hoors. (Cheeky bitches though they may be) They work from a brothel and so are relatively clean. Unfortunately the ones on the streets aren't so fortunate. They tend to be out there because of their drug habits. Often they're out there because of their partner's habits. (Mutters about making it legal, yet tries not to get into the politics of it all).

But my taxi driver was right when he said (wait for it...)

"I've been in many a city and seen many a pro... but I have to say that The Grey Toon has the UGLIEST HOORS on earth!"

I almost fell over laughing. He finished this statement off with:

"They're lucky if they've got 10 teeth amonst them!"

Monday, January 24, 2005

The Taxi Driver's Tale Continued: "Illicit Earnings"

I liked this taxi driver. He was funny, drove properly, was polite and he was free and easy with his gossip...

"Of course, I've been drivin' this taxi for a good few years now and the hoorin' business has changed a lot up here! I aye mind the days when I used to mak an absolute fortune picking up these rich oil guys fae the airport or the station.

"They'd get intae my taxi and say 'Take me to a young lady' and aff we'd go. I'd tak them to one of the lassies I kent - they were mostly clean in those days and we had no problems dropping off their punters. This American guy once gave me 100 quid! And then the lassies would often gie ye mair money on top of that!"

We mourned the fact that hoorin' has changed a lot in the grey toon over the years. We now have the only tolerance zone (I've heard it called the "green light zone") in Scotland. Apparently the business is booming. Nice to see we've got a fine replacement for Fishing, Oil and Tourism!

Sunday, January 23, 2005

The Taxi Driver's Tale: "The Cheeky Bitch!"

So to continue my ride with the taxi driver.

"Aye," he says, "I wisnae going tae tak the call tae yer address! More often or not it's one of the lassies fae the ground floor and they have ye hanging around for aaaages when I could be oot makin' money"

"Damn right!" says I "Do you have to take them from the airport?"
"Aye. They come up from London, Liverpool, Manchester, Bristol, Birmingham. And there's one of them I just refuse tae tak! Right Cheeky Bitch she is too!"

There then followed a conversation about the said "Cheeky Bitch" from Liverpool who totally takes liberties. Swearing, offering something instead of money for the ride, um... I mean taxi journey. How he has to drop them off at other places in town so they can get their drugs, ken?

Many taxi drivers, especially the ones from his company, will check out calls from my street - first of all finding what number the call is for and then finding out the names.

So this is why I have such problems getting a taxi!

Damn Cheeky Bitch.

Saturday, January 22, 2005

An interesting taxi ride

So this monday morning I left at very early hours to go to the airport. I'm away on business for a week. My taxi driver very patiently waited as I flapped about with my luggage and putting the bins out. We set off through the gloom of a rainy Grey Toon morning. ("Dreich" being the normal term.)

"Aff on business are we?"
"Awa fur lang?"
"Jist a Wik"

(Translation for our friends in the New World:
"Going away on business then?"
"Away for long?"
"Just a week")

This is how to talk to a Grey Toon Taxi Driver. You'll get a bit of banter with most of them. This one was great!

More smalltalk followed.
"So!" says he. "Bin livin' in yer street fur a wee while then have ye?"

Oh aye, I think to myself. I know what this is building up to... The same thing all taxidrivers are wanting to talk about when they talk about my street.

So I say, "You'll be about to ask about the Hoors on the ground floor then?"

He looks shocked in a put-on way.

"Weel... I wisnae going tae mention onything. Only since you have!"

And henceforth we had a most interesting conversation! But seeing as how I'm at work and have to go to a meeting, that will have to wait for another post ;)

Thursday, January 20, 2005

Hoor: A definition

While I was looking up "punter" the other day, I was delighted to find this on urbandictionary.com.
Irish. (although i'd argue and say it was scottish too) Can be used in both friendly and derogatory terms. (See!? I'm friendly!)
1. Whore/Prozzie.
2. Look at that young one dressed up like a hoor! And her not even 13 years old!

So there ye are.
Normal hoor reports will return asap. Just had to get that post out of the way.

Sunday, January 16, 2005

What is a Punter?

Following a short discussion on my comments, it has been brought to my attention that "Punter" is a British word. I had no idea! Here were all these poor folk thinking that the hoors were being visited by "the guy who kicks the oval ball in NFL football to land the extra point after a touchdown" or "a big homos" or "a fuck up."

Sorry. They don't actually have anything to do with funny American football or even men with sticks pushing boats along in Cambridge.

I shall henceforth endeavour to clear up this matter.

According to the Oxfort English Dictionary of All Things (TM)

Punter/’pΛntə(r)/n, 1 a person who gambles or lays a bet. 2a colloq. a customer or client. b colloq. a participant in any activity; a person. c sl. a prostitute's client. 3 a point in faro.

That, ladies and gentlemen, was a html nightmare. (No idea what this "point in faro" is, but I digress."

So there we are. A Prostitute's Client.

This will also give you an explanation for the naming of the splendid "Punternet." Which is basically a "Who's Who in the world of hooring" or, if you like, "Which Hoor." (I reckon such a mag would sell very well on the top shelves of the Grey Toon).

(I wasn't going to put any links to it, in case my family read this, but I've gone over a year without them looking it up so far and I've got my Bloggy Nookie section in the sidebar, so why the hell not!)

Tuesday, January 11, 2005



Nothing has happened in the Hoor Palace for a couple of weeks.

So like any other typical Brit I will henceforth resort to discussing the WEATHER!

Ooooh what terrible gales we have! What terrible gusts and rattling of windowpanes!

And what a smashing of a chimney that just came down off our ageing tennement in the wind!

Onto the pavement.

Sadly missing the very posh car of some punter...
And any punters coming out of it...
And any hoors coming out to meet their punter.

Hence I present this photo entitled "NO DEAD HOORS OR PUNTERS"

(I told you it'd been quiet around here...)

Thursday, January 06, 2005

In other news...

It appears that Brian's Mum from "The Life Of Brian" has moved in downstairs.

I have no other explanation for the screeching and carrying on that was going on when I got back from the pub just now :|

"He's not a punter! He's a very naughty boy!"

Or whatever...