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...

Thursday, December 07, 2006


Hmmm. So we came back from the pub late last night full of what Enid Blyton would have called high spirits. There are still no curtains at the hoors window.

Blind to the dangers of climbing onto window sills, the boy and I drunkenly levered eachother up onto the hoors windowsill so that we could look over the grubby lace screen, and peered in and saw…

*a pause of great drama*


Not ae thing. No furniture, no carpet, not even a bloody lightbulb (for perhaps they took with them all they could get).

I'm really starting to think they’ve been chucked out!

1 comment:

billythekid said...


that's no good at all. How am I going to get my hoorey goodness now?

..I wonder if I'll get the empty hoose