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...

Wednesday, April 30, 2008

On Pogo Sticks

There are many fine things in having a friend live just a few doors up from you. One is borrowing cups of sugar (much easier to go a few doors up than to borrow possibly-contaminated sugar from your hooring neighbours). Another is meeting in the local for a bottle of cheap pink wine and some chicken in a basket.

Another is when you receive a text like the one I just got 10 minutes ago:

"Quick. Look out your front window. There's a man on a pogo stick pogoing his way up the street."

I jumped up onto the windowsill and opened the window to lean out and see this rare grey toon spectacle. Never let it be said that use of the pogo stick is restricted to small 60's children on sunny afternoons. It's pissing down out there. Personally I can think of modes of transportation less ridiculous for a rainy tuesday night...

(Edit, 5 mins later... I just got reply to a text i sent back... "If I hadn't heard the boing-ing, I wouldn't have noticed it!")

(Note: Wikipedia has the following section under it's entry for "Pogo Stick"
Famous Users
Enoch Powell
Andrew Roberts, respected historian.

Oh the mental images...)

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