Sex by the beach…for a price

One fine day recently I was working from home when, in the middle of the afternoon, there was a knock at the door. Usually this means that either a Buddhist monk is trying to sell me a book of drawings that will undoubtedly change my life, or the gas man has come to read my meter for, oh, the fifth time this month….

Imagine my surprise to open the door to a young blonde girl in a police uniform. PC Polly.
I kid you not.

PC Polly: Hi there, my name is PC Polly. May I come in?

K: Um, yes of course (shit, what have I done now???)

PC Polly: Thanks. I’m just here to reassure you that we know about what’s going on at Number 7.

K: (phew!) Um, OK.

PC Polly: You do know about it, don’t you? Because if you don’t know, I can’t actually tell you myself. But it’s not really very nice, with the schoolkids here and everything.

K: (thinking, ah-ha, DRUG DEALERS!!!) Oh, right, yes I know, it’s pretty shocking.

PC Polly: Anyway, so here’s my card. If you see anything suspicious, like cars pulling up at strange times, or lots of men coming and going, please do call us. We’re doing all we can, obviously it’s not at savoury, partcularly with children in the area all the time, but we need help from the neighbours.

K: (finally twigging that we have a bloody BROTHEL next door) Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh, that explains all the really loud shagging, and the condoms strewn all over the street. God, I thought it was just a student house!!!!

Miss Marple can rest easy, I think her job is safe!

Two questions arise from that conversation:

1) What the hell would make a load of prostitutes set up their business slap bang between a church and a primary school ?? Is the sound of kids screaming and church bells ringing not likely to slow business a little? Or maybe it’s a cunning ploy to keep the clients’ visits mercifully brief…??

2) More worryingly, what the hell kind of students was I hanging out with at uni ???

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