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...

Monday, July 16, 2007

What Could Have Been An Ethical Conundrum

People have been coming and going from Shetland Girl's flat that is up for sale, you can hear them go up the stairs.

The Boy and I were busy wrestling some heavy DIY detritus down the stairs and The Dad of a Potential Purchaser was just in time to open the door for us. (What a nice man).

He smiled and asked a few questions - like you should when you're buying a flat. Such as:
1) Do the buzzers work?
2) Does the roof leak?
3) Is the Council Tax particularly high?
4) What's it like parking outside?

All fine and well.
Happily I didn't have to lie to his next questions...
5) What are the neighbours like?
6) Is there a brothel on the ground floor?

Away went Potential Purchaser and her Dad, happy with my answers and discussing the Estate Agent's shirt.

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