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So, this morning I step out my flat and into the corridor I’m hit by the smell of piss and crack smoke and cheap perfume and realise that yet again, the local crackheads have got into my block somehow and been using it as a squat, brothel, boudoir, crackhouse etc all night.
I hear movement on the upstairs landing and realise to my fury that someone’s still here, which means I have to go and ask them to leave. I’ve got my hat on (good, because I’m relatively anonymous) but no phone and no weapon (bad, because it means I am on my own and probably fucked if it comes to a ruck).
Feeling fairly sick with adrenalin I stick my head up the stairs. There’s only one left (good, because it’s a one-to-one) but it’s a female (bad, as IMLE females are harder to handle because they think you won't get violent with them (correctly, in my case) and can really give serious grief up to and including assault).
I speak and find myself faced with a surprisingly cute and worryingly young-looking woman, early twenties at the oldest. Anyway I ask her to leave, not really very nicely but making it clear that I’m only doing it because I don’t want people taking the piss out of residents who work hard and pay to live in the block, and piss-taking is what has happened in the past. (I never used to throw people out, in fact, in the old days, before all the trouble started.)
Immediately I could see I had a problem. This one was not going to go quietly. After various bits of gobshite about how she wasn’t doing anything wrong and how I wasn’t a cop so I couldn’t do anything I made it clear that was going to escort her out come hell or high water.
She then starts to stall for time, saying she needed to fix her bra and how rude it was of me to try and watch a lady get dressed. I was going to be late for work, but as I make my own hours I thought that I was going to see this one through so I went down to the landing below and waited patiently while she “fixed her bra”, or more likely smoked a pipe or something. She supplied a running commentary on the alleged bra-fixing process but as I was looking out of the window I saw a load of crackwraps flutter down, obviously thrown by her from the window directly above.
Eventually she came down and I said I’d show her the door. She said I was a real gentleman. As we stepped outside she said very loudly that the sex I’d just paid her £20 for wasn’t very good though she had quite liked the bit where I’d liked her pussy. I made sarcastic comments back to the effect that she wasn’t even worth 20p and thought that was the end of it.
But, it wasn’t, because she decided that as I had seen her to the door she would see me to the station! So I walked to the station with her. What was I supposed to do? I think she was trying to embarrass me for chucking her out but I have no particular problem with walking along with a crackhead, not that she looked much like one anyway. Seeing I wasn’t very bothered she soon stopped making loud and false allegations about liaisons we had never had, and my sexual prowess and/or lack of. She started talking to me properly and I talked to her properly. (See? I may think that some crackwhores are scum of the earth, but I am open to the possibility that some are not, and that some may even be quite nice people.)
She told me she smoked £200 or so worth of crack a day. She came out with other stuff which basically had two angles. The first was that women on the streets were often abuse victims with serious substance-abuse issues, and that if I ever bothered talking to them I’d hear some terrible stories. The other line was that she was different to that, she was very lucky, had a good family and only binged from time to time. Most of the time she lived at home and went to college where she was doing catering and on Sundays she even went to church. I don’t know which of her lines of talk was true, or even if any of it’s true. We also talked a bit about the new laws on prostitution which may affect how she earned her crack cash (or may not) but we didn’t come to any firm conclusions.
Then we got to the station and she suddenly got quite close to me and – given that someone getting close to you means they’re going to try and jump the barrier with you as you go through – I told her she wasn’t going to jump the barrier with me. She looked at me and for some bizarre reason which I can only assume to have been drug-related started tearing up. I was a bit fazed by this and said, “Make sure I don't find you dead on my stairs sometime, yeah?” She promised I wouldn't and then said really, really loudly so it echoed through the ticket-hall, “Next time you lick my pussy, make sure you lick it at the corners!” I laughed and told her to fuck of in a fairly friendly tone. And we went our separate ways.
I thought I’d post this here for two reasons. First because if I end up stabbed to death by her pimp later on tonight then someone can tell the law what started it. Second, because I am curious to know what people think of it all. Whether you think I should have called the law, threatened her, left her alone, given her money, whatever. Thanks in advance for your thoughts my weird, weird start to today. I’m basically bloody clueless when it comes to the Invasion of the Crackheads and I want to be better-informed if I find myself faced with Invasion of the Crackheads II. Which, knowing my locality, I will soon enough. |
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