My hometown's running out of hoors.....

Sorry about the rather tasteless title, an poor attempt to parody the well known (well, it must be, I've heard of it) "my neighbor's are hoors" blog. But it's a fact; five dead prostitutes in two weeks. Someone's on a spree in Ipswich, and the polis are busy busy bees. Now to my mind, it's a three way race between being a conventional pervert, a conventional psychopath or a religious nut. Being of an extremely cynical bent, my money's on the latter.

The problem with this sort of thing, from a personal point of view rather than the obvious distress to the families and friends of the dead girls, who lets face it, just because their circumstances led them down this rather unfortunate path, aren't automatically people who deserve horrible things happening to them (rather the blokes that use them when they've got perfectly good wives and families at home are); is that my colleagues at work get one whiff of this, know where I come from, find out that I made a short stopover coming back from the airport on Sunday and immediately start making references to the Immingham Ripper, refusing to let me walk behind them, etc.

With friends like mine, who needs bastards?