Yeah! So it's been Hallowe'en.
And last night, in between worshipping the ancestors, cuddling ravens and dancing widdershins round our local bonfire, I popped home for supplies.
And, making a hell of a lot of noise getting in the front door (broomstick got wedged in the hinges), I obviously sounded like a punter arriving. So as I was passing the Hoors flat, the door opened - and there stood one of the more attractive Ebony Divas grinning out at me - clad in a red nightie, wearing CFM Red lipstick and boots, holding a three-pronged-forky-thing and matching horns.
Neighbour From Hell.
Anyway. I saluted her with my broom and cackled and she went "OOOOOOhhh ahahahaha! Marvellous!"
I love a hoor that observes her traditional holidays. Can't wait to see what she does for Guy Fawkes...
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...