When a Hoor had a go at Busted

So... that sunny afternoon when I was outside cleaning my car... Not only was I approached by Bill Oddie, but Shetland Boy came out on his way to work. We exchanged the usual pleasantries, discussed the broken door ("Probably due to the high amount of traffic we recieve") and just as he was about to leave, he asked "Did you get disturbed the other night by one of the hoors?"

"Um. No?" - I've gotten used to wearing earplugs you see and could sleep through a bomb nowadays - the hoors probably haven't become well behaved all of a sudden - they just don't waken me up anymore. "What happened?" I asked.

Apparently... Busted were up to their usual nonsense - music, screaming, smashing and the like and about 4am, Shetland boy and his girlfriend heard a door open and close on the ground floor and then one of the hoors started shouting up the stairs "Can you lot bloody 'ear me or wot!?"

Well, there was no response and so she stamped all the way up the stairs in her slippers and dressing gown and then started banging on the door screaming "I've lived here 10 bloody years and I've never 'eard the like!"

Then there was what the tabloid press would call a "ruckus" and eventually she must have terrified the spikey haired little darlings into shutting the hell up.

(Obviously Busted have a far higher volume than the Nazi Ned and his Orally Challenged girlfriend, or The Dead Man when he sings.)

(Oh, and she's not been here 10 years - that would mean that the brothel would have been in full swing 2 years before I moved in and there's no way I'd have bought my flat knowing there was a brothel on the ground floor!)

Is There A Hoor In?

So... I was washing my car last wednesday. No, not doing the Liv Tyler thing... just trying to remove some of the scratches it got when some comedy genius put a traffic cone on it.

For the entertainment, I ought to do this more often.

You see, I was coming out of the tenement with my polish and my shammy and, because the bloody door is knackered AGAIN, some Bill Oddie type was making his way into the building without first being buzzed in. (NOTE: He was a Bill Oddie type because he was short, stout and bearded... NOT because he was being chased down the street by a giant kitten or anything like that). He cheerily greeted me as if he knew me. I knew what he was up to and gave him the usual nod and a raised eyebrow.

So I was polishing my car accross the road and down a bit, polish polish polish, and out of the corner of my eye I see him come out of the tenement and look up and down the street, puzzled. Hah! I thought. Either she's busy or she's out getting her nails done. Nae shag fur you pal!

So he waits there an uncomfortable amount of time and little old ladies with their shopping trollies pass and give him dirty looks and all this time he's not bothered at all and just stands in the doorway waiting for the current Hoor to come home.

Finally he gets bored and I see him crossing the street. Going towards his car. No. Not going towards his car. Ah. Coming towards me. Avoid eye contact. Polish Polish Polish. Tum tee tum. Right. He's standing behind me... isn't he?

"Scuse me!" he chirps, "Is Sharn in?" (NOTE: This would be the local pronounciation of Sharon... He wasn't looking for some sharn. Which is the local vernicular for "cowshit")

"Um?"

"Sharn. You know... Sharn. One of the lassies from the ground floor?"

"Um. I dunno. Just got home from work." Go away Bill. Godammit where are all those giant kittens when you need them!?

"So you don't know when she'll be back then? Is she out getting her shopping?"

"Um. Dunno. I just live a few floors up." Please go away now.

"Ohhhhh" he says. "So you're not... Oh! OK then. Thanks anyway!"

And off he goes.

Um. So I'm not WHAT, exactly!?

Did he think I was her maid? Did I look like I was polishing her car? Do I look like a hoor's valet? Is my car a hoor's car!? (I once saw a hoor's car in Montreal. It was bright pink and I was only 15 so I loved it. - I know it was a hoor's car because she was stretched accross the bonnet and my aunt told me it was the "working girls district")

I now have a nasty feeling of unease :(

Hoors - Nul Pwah!

Just thought y'all might like to know the Hoors (and friends) are foregoing a night's earnings and are watching The Eurovision Song Contest at full volume!

Dirty Little Buggers - further developments

Hmmm. Now that I'm back from working abroad, I can tell you about the full tragedy unfolding upstairs.

When I arrived home this evening, there was *stuff* everywhere around their flat - kind of like when we were students and the woman downstairs kept throwing her boyfriend's stuff out of the window (which was particularly amusing at the time if anyone wants to hear about it).

*Stuff* includes another 2 leaking bin bags and an armchair (that looks like it's been nicked from the local) sitting on the stairs, a blender (containing red substances unknown) on the landing and some particularly nasty pants hanging from the railing.

Wonder if they're being chucked out? How will we sleep at night!?!?!

Answer: Soundly.

Dirty Little Buggers!

Last night the boy and I were awakened from a well-deserved slumber by none other than Busted.

They weren't getting in a bit of late night practice, oh no! The spiky haired littled darlings appeared to be doing a bit of clearing up. Clearing up that, by the sounds of things, consisted of hauling an elephant down the stairs, arguing with a tramp and rounding the whole lot off by having a Greek wedding style attitude to any dirty dishes that might be lying around - specifically when they got the stuff all the way down 6 flights of stairs and out into the street and celebrated by smashing crockery in the middle of the road. And then laughing loudly.

As I left my flat this morning, I was treated to a brand new experience. Had they left a note of apology and a nice bunch of flowers? No. They did leave us all with a really, really PECULIAR smell.

I just can't put my finger on it.

Jilly Goulden would have a bloody FIELD DAY.

There's definitely a hint of vomit. Also the suggestion of past-it camembert... Some heavy overtones of ripe sock, a tinge of rotten cabbage and most definitely the exciting aroma of running stark bollock naked through one of our fine city's municipal dumps.

They've also left a nice trail all the way down the stairs and out the door to the bins - you know when the contents of your bin bags go liquid? I think that's what it is. Either that or they owed Jabba The Hut some money and Mr Slug himself paid them a visit.

Little Bastards. I'm going to phone up Kim and Aggie for their latest challenge. *grumbles*

(Note: I'm so considerate of my forn readers that I have included links to the Pop Culture Icons mentioned in this post... I'm sure you'd have to live quite some way off not to have heard of Jabba The Hut, but my mum wouldn't know so I assume others like her might be reading)

Crackdown!

A workmate asked me yesterday...
"So. Have yer hoors been shut down yet!?"

Apparently his mate is in the Grey Toon Police Force, specifically the Hoor Crackdown dept and they're going round the Grey Toon's Tennement Brothels one by one CLOSING THEM DOWN!

So we wait with baited breath. It can only be so long.

Unless one of their Chief Inspectors is a regular of course.