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...

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

The Missionaries - Part 3. Soup Soup Soup!

Bloody hell. I can't believe it's been over 2 weeks since my last post! :| I have no excuse other than I was away with work for far too long. (A whole new blog in itself...) And while there's been a couple of "Events" since I got back, I think I should finish off telling you about The Missionaries... Just while we're on the subject! :)

It was one of the hottest summers I can remember. It was the kind of summer that people write songs about and that old people get reminiscent about when they talk about the old days when we wuz just kids and all this was fields. There were endless blue skies, the air was sweet and the 24 hour Dodgy Porn And Popper Shop had sparkling white wine for 1.97 a bottle. (There I go giving away the location of our flat. But hey, I think every grey-toonser has lived near the DPaP Shop at some time in their lives. I wholly expect a conversation about this shop in the comments from Grey Toon Ex-pats...)

We spent most of that summer in the back garden - first of all studying for our final exams and then once they were over with, just lying around wondering what the hell we were going to do with our lives now that no studying had to be done.

We would carry half the flat into the back garden out of the window and straight onto the raised grassy bit... A small fridge, a TV, a CD player so we could listen to Frank Sinatra, blow up matresses... Fondue set, Cuddly Toy...

And one day just after we had been enjoying watching the neighbours dog/horse being mauled by the local tomcat (Greebo), we laid back and listened to The Missionaries cooking lunch. They had the window open because of their clean-livin', So we could often hear them chittering. (They did that a lot. It was better than Big Brother).

*long pause*
"Yay! Yay! Yay!"
"Hehe! What is it Sister Veronica!?"
"Soup? Sister Veronica?"
"Yah! Soup! Soup Soup Soup! Dontcha just LOOOOVE Soup!?"
"Oh WOOOW Sister Veronica, YEAAaaahhhh! I LOOOOVE Soup! Soup Soup Soup! Praise the Lord for Soup!"
"Yeaaaaahhhhh! PRAISE the Lord for Soup!"

So. If you ever see someone in the soup aisle of Asda chuckling and going "Soup, Soup, Soup! Dontcha just lurve soup? Praise the Lord for soup!" - then that's probably me.

Or my flatmate at the time.

Or even one of the Missionaries shopping for God.

Or just some random nutter.

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