Failed to hook up for an arranged punt last week with a girl based in a high-rise block of flats on the Isle of Dogs near South Quay DLR. I went to the postcode she'd given me, rang her up and told her the street corner I was at, the shops I'd just passed and what I was looking at on the street. She had no fucking clue about where she was or where I was, and before anyone starts thinking she's trafficked and enslaved, this was a British girl with a London accent. Her clueless suggestions sent me back the way I'd come and by the time I worked out the location, she'd run out of time before her next booking so it never happened. Oh, and this is the best bit. A crucial part of the address she told me was "Hoover". It turned out to be "Hanover", and I'd been about 100 yards from the door when I rang her, but just round the corner. I think the stupidest prossies are the female equivalent of the stupidest footballers. Their hourly pay rate is much higher than their IQ.
