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...

Friday, January 26, 2007

New Neighbours!

The inevitable has happened! The Hoors flat has a new resident!

After the tools and camping furniture vanished from the front room and a nice begonia appeared sitting on the windowsill, a shining new "To Let" sign appeared in the Hoors window!

Now I'm not saying I'm nosy or anything, but you have to admit it WOULD take a lot of self control not to phone up the number advertised on the sign, just to enquire how much the flat was going for... And so just after Christmas, I was told it was not YET up for let! (Couldn't help myself). (I owed it to you lot afterall...)

Cunning flat owners. Leaving the flat OBVIOUSLY emtpy for a few weeks. Giving the punters a good few weeks warning that the brothel had gone before leasing it out to some unsuspecting youngster.

Inevitably, of course, this is what has happened. For my dad (who finds my flat a convenient place to have a cup of tea on his way in to town) has informed me that an innocent young curly haired blond lass was moving in the other day. Being a couthy old man and a gentleman too, he said hello before heading up for a nice cup of earl grey. When quizzed, he admitted there was a certain air of purity about the young lass.

Oh dear. I feared as much.

More news as it comes in!

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