The puddle

There’s some­thing about hoo­kers. And you can think of that in any way you like. Hoo­kers have always been spe­cial soci­al figu­res. Peop­le thought of their job as an unwor­thy thing to do. But pro­sti­tu­ti­on has also con­ti­nuous­ly been a con­trast to ordi­na­ry people’s life — even if it was for some peop­le clear­ly inte­gra­ted into their lives. So I guess it’s good to think about one’s own posi­ti­on towards hoo­kers and pro­sti­tu­ti­on. Par­ri­Fin does it this way:


The first ques­ti­on is: How much yoghurt did Par­ri­Fin spill on herself? And whe­re? It seems to be more than a tiny drop on your shirt. And it was defi­net­ly enough to grab the thought of com­pa­ring it with a hooker’s job.
I never thought that hoo­kers are trai­ning with yoghurts to avo­id get­ting too much pudd­les of sperm on their clo­thes. Most of them can hand­le it now, so that only overeage­red hoo­kers cock up their clo­thes.
But I think for them it’s a kind of pro­of of their pro­fes­sio­na­lism. And shu­re­ly the­re are many hoo­kers with ward­ro­bes full of shirts of evi­dence. Like tho­se goblets on the shelf in the living-rooms of ordi­na­ry peop­le.