From the vaults
Sep. 19th, 2006 01:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
webofevilJune 2003
Yesterday I met the worst pimp in the world.
I turned the corner into Rupert Street and he lurched into my path. I began to sidestep him as he started his spiel. “Mate, mate.” I shook my head as he carried on. “Just stop a minute.” Then he grabbed my arm. I looked at his hand. “Can you let go?” I said. “I’m just talking to you,” he said. “No you're not. You’re holding my arm,” I replied.
Undeterred, he showed me the wares he was offering. “Look at that!” he yelled, jabbing his finger towards a nearby standard-issue, seen-too-much, gets-older-with-every-glance ghetto courtesan. “Are you telling me you don’t want...” “No,” I assured him. “What? Why? Are you scared? Are you a poofter?” He tightened his grip. “Are you a batty boy?”
“Just let it go,” I suggested. “You have not made a sale.”
“No, I’m arksing you,” he continued loudly as people started to turn and stare. “Are you a shit-stabber? Do you fuck arse?” I debated some options (e.g. Noel Coward voice: “Ah, dear boy...”) but swiftly decided by far the safest was just to look him in the eyes and say “No”.
He flung away my arm in disgust, muttered “You must be”, and stormed off.
Yesterday I met the worst pimp in the world.
I turned the corner into Rupert Street and he lurched into my path. I began to sidestep him as he started his spiel. “Mate, mate.” I shook my head as he carried on. “Just stop a minute.” Then he grabbed my arm. I looked at his hand. “Can you let go?” I said. “I’m just talking to you,” he said. “No you're not. You’re holding my arm,” I replied. Undeterred, he showed me the wares he was offering. “Look at that!” he yelled, jabbing his finger towards a nearby standard-issue, seen-too-much, gets-older-with-every-glance ghetto courtesan. “Are you telling me you don’t want...” “No,” I assured him. “What? Why? Are you scared? Are you a poofter?” He tightened his grip. “Are you a batty boy?”
“Just let it go,” I suggested. “You have not made a sale.”
“No, I’m arksing you,” he continued loudly as people started to turn and stare. “Are you a shit-stabber? Do you fuck arse?” I debated some options (e.g. Noel Coward voice: “Ah, dear boy...”) but swiftly decided by far the safest was just to look him in the eyes and say “No”.
He flung away my arm in disgust, muttered “You must be”, and stormed off.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-09-19 12:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-19 12:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-19 12:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-20 11:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-21 06:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-19 12:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-19 01:01 pm (UTC)Not who the what now?
no subject
Date: 2006-09-19 01:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-19 01:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-19 02:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-19 04:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-19 10:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-20 02:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-20 06:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-20 09:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-20 09:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-20 12:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-20 01:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-20 10:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-20 11:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-21 10:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-21 12:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-21 04:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-21 04:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-22 10:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-22 02:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-25 10:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-25 01:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-25 02:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-25 05:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-26 07:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-27 01:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-27 07:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-19 01:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-19 01:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-20 07:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-20 09:28 am (UTC)My brother did a journalism course in Falmouth. His team were putting together a report on how difficult it is to be openly gay in Falmouth (very), and had such trouble finding anyone willing to talk about this that they were reduced to standing on street corners asking complete strangers if they were homosexual. My brother was nominated for this job because he's a big lad; big enough that he didn't get into any fights, which is quite an achievement for an arts student in Cornwall anyway without going around asking local men if they're gay.
no subject
Date: 2006-09-20 01:12 pm (UTC)One story goes that the outbreak is largely the work of an HIV+ - and inevitably foreign - gentlemen maiing his way through the local population of available slappers. When asking locals about this, a Sunday Times journalist got the almost universal response that they didn't know anything about an HIV+ foreigner, but that it was almost certainly "'im o'er thurr", on the basis that "'ee be'm baaaastard".
no subject
Date: 2006-09-20 01:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-22 12:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-22 02:24 pm (UTC)Yes, if "like London" is code for "really not at all like London". Falmouth's nod towards cosmopolitanism, according to my brother, is that, unlike most of the rest of Cornwall, it is full of "arts students who make their own clothes" and who "keep getting beaten up by the locals", especially by local nationalists and BNP members.
> Why do people keep going to falmouth?
Do they? Really? Who? How quickly do they leave?