Prostitutes

Highwood House had a seemingly ideal position of isolation on a hill overlooking Bristol. In reality the hidden nature of the location caused as many problems as it solved. Our temporary home was situated at the end of a country lane less than two miles from the edge of the St. Pauls district and its notorious drug problems. Highwood and its large, dark car park was a magnet for dealers and hookers, both of course inextricably linked. We were experts in this because some of their number shared the house with us. Frequently the entrance to the rehab was littered with drug paraphernalia and condoms. As we progressed with our rejection of our chosen addiction, this daily sight was becoming more difficult to put up with. As Paul and I had the nearest rooms we decided to take action. We recruited the other housemates and initiated Whore Watch. With the lights off in our rooms and breaking the house curfew we waited for the first car to pull up outside my window. Sure enough just before midnight our first victims chugged into the car park. We let them get on with it for a while and then made our move, out of my secret back door. Our motives were to discourage these unwelcome visitors and our methods made sure that the message was clear. Johnny, being the loudest, was elected to make the confrontation. The hooker was still doing her Woody Woodpecker impression as the not so delicate hand of Bristol started walloping on the window. The client shrivelled and the prostitute left one mouthful to give Johnny another. Burning rubber in a completely different way to how he had anticipated, the customer hit the accelerator and they were gone. With round one to us, we went to bed hoping that she slunk back to Bristol and told all her mates.