Natasha Whittam wrote:This morning I popped into Morrisons to stock up on Twirls and Pepsi for the weekend, when I was approached by two scruffy looking men who asked me if I knew where there was "a good brothel". Not an average one, but a good one.
I didn't know whether to be outraged that they thought I looked like the sort of person who would work out of a brothel, or flattered that I was so hot that I would only work in a top class brothel.
Anyway, I slapped one in the face and proceeded to the chocolate aisle where Twirls are still £1 for 4.
Two questions:
1) Have you ever been in a brothel?
2) What is the strangest thing a stranger has asked you in the street (KP need not answer this one, we can guess the answer).
Funnily enough I have!
Some years ago when I was working for the council I was required to call on a property (a normal looking family home, in a normal residential part of the town) to speak to the occupier/s.
Two young women came to the door dressed in their nightgowns, which certainly was not that unusual in the borough I was working in at the time (you wouldn't believe what some folk deem suitable to be dressed in to open their door to some unexpected stranger!). I'm not being judgemental in saying they were nothing like remotely sexy or alluring - clearly looks were not essential at this brothel!
Anyway they seemed to be east Europeans with only a grasp of basic English between them.
After some how gathering I was from the council they seemed to be under some misapprehension I was there about their refuse bin (which apparently need replacing?). I finally understood from them that the owner/householder (madam I presumed later!) was out until that evening - where upon I left.
It was only after visiting the next door property a few minutes later that the owner told me the property was being used as brothel and apparently well frequented by members of the Asian community.
They told me they had reported the property to both the council (not that I was aware of the fact) and the police.
A postscript to the story.
Just a week later a work colleague contacted me for a favour to give him a lift to an area of the borough, as he had a meeting there scheduled to start shortly and his car would not start.
Yes, you are right, he asked to go to this certain street and when we got there to drop him off at the very same house.
I certainly knew he wasn't there to talk about their refuse bin!
He even asked if I could wait around for him as the 'meeting' wasn't going to last for more than 30 minutes!
I told him he would have to make other arrangements to get back as I had other commitments to attend to.
I think the bloke must have realised that I knew what he was up to and our paths never crossed again since that time.
A few weeks later still I drove past the house that now seemed to be unoccupied but it did have a new wheelie bin outside of it!
I never did bother going back to see the 'madam'.
True story.
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