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, July 24, 2006

The Missionaries - Part 2

So, I previously told you about when we found out about our Missionary neighbours a few years back when I was a student.

They were Mormon Missionaries and lived directly above us. They were always females and although I'm sure they all looked different, to my aging mind they were all blonde clones of Hayley Mills in her youth (or the Olsen Sisters for those of you too young to remember Ms Mills). Occasionally they were visited by smartly dressed blonde Good Mormon Boys and another neighbour of ours once repeated a rumour that "they've been up to ALL SORTS OF HANKY PANKY!" (which became a stock phrase in our household from that moment on).

More than once there was a buzz at 8am on a sunday and a rather hungover Neighbour Of Teh Missionaries got to the intercom system and went "Nyugh. Yeahr?" only to be cheerily greated with "Goooood Morning Sister Gwendoline! I've got about 5000 Booksa Mormon out here Furya!"

Other than the early morning awakenings, they really were a joy to have as neighbours - they never once spoke to us about their religion, cheered us up by their singing (which was only irritating when we had hangovers), and never made any more noise than hoovering.

They were always hoovering - For Cleanliness Is Next To Godliness.

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

My Neighbours Were Missionaries

So I'm back from holiday now and from what I can make out, bugger all happened while I was away. However, I feel that you, my loyal readers, deserve more than that - hence I'm about to tell you about some other neighbours I had previous to moving in above the brothel. Yeah. Missionaries!

It was when I was a student and my good friend and I had rented a flat in one of the most popular student areas of the Grey Toon. We were moving in one sunny saturday and we went to put our names on the buzzer. While we were there, we peered at the other buzzer names and were delighted to see one buzzer, not with just a name, but with a colourful hand drawn picture of a wooden cross on a green hill with a smiling yellow sun in a blue sky. Below this was written "The Missionaries!"

In a moment of youthful delight we dashed inside, found our own crayons and did our own buzzer label stating that the new tennents (amongst some badly drawn orange and red flames) were "Satan's Happy Little Helpers!" We laughed and all was fun. Everyone who came to our flatwarming that night thought it was fun too.

So the next morning we were awakened (not for the first time) by a rousing chorus (all in perfect harmony... it was like living below the Osmonds) of "His Name Is Jesus" (which was their favourite song. We soon learnt the words.)

Then there was the mad panic to get dressed and run outside to remove our hilarious buzzer sticker. Oops.

(Yeah ok, we did consider changing it to "The Newborn Converts" - but thought that might not go down too well with them upstairs)

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

A post in which your neighbour fails to be an Investigative Journaliste

I go away for the weekend and exciting things happen.

I was (loudly) carrying some furniture to be chucked out down the stairs yesterday and passed the first floor flat below mine. The door opened suddenly and Lovely Miss and Master Downstairs peered out with faces full of paranoia.

"Oh! It's you!" said Miss Downstairs, "Would you like a hand with that?" And so Miss Downstairs helps me to my car with the old furniture.

After the usual smalltalk, how are you, bloody awful weather we're having, didn't the neds make a lovely pattern on the stairs with their vomit, etc... I tell her

"So. I was away for the weekend. Did I miss anything?"

"Naah. Well... Actually yes. Someone was kicking the Hoors door in at 4am on saturday... So we called the police. And the police came in for a cup of tea and hear everything. But it's ok because they were entitled to be kicking the Hoors door in"


"Yeah. They got the door fixed. Hence all the staples in the wood"

And so there is. The Hoors door is a door in name only. Otherwise it is just a pretty selection of splinters all held together by hope.

I really, really wonder what part of Scottish law allows you to kick in the door of a brothel :)

Is there, for example, an ancient law excusing "Menne Of The Towne In Desperate Neede Of Aye Shagge"?


Tuesday, July 04, 2006


I'm off on holiday, but I'll leave you with this...

There was a lot of banging going on at the weekend.

Stop that. Clear your filthy minds out this moment!

The hoors were finally getting a new front door. It is a rather pleasant green and has some nice Victorian-style panelling. It looks like it could withstand a few good kickings.

Our hoors may now sleep safely at night.

Assuming they’re not doing the night shift that is.