Down & Out In Bournemouth & Poole: Day 10: The Bus Depot


On Friday morning Little Red Riding Hood struck a pose at Poole Bus Depot, I think this Malaysian Little Red Riding Hood was male, he or she was so petite that it was hard to tell. It was kind of obvious what Little Red Riding hood was about, it was of course mean’t to be totally obvious. Towards the end of the bus depot is a car park which is empty, except for meandering bus drivers coming off duty and cold and tired rough sleepers.

In my day and in my community when you found someone sleeping rough & looking tired and hungry you took them to McDonalds or KFC and you bought them something to eat. If you could, you made a few calls and found them a carpeted floor if not a bed for the night. So this custom of shagging someone young enough to be your daughter and then paying them is completely new to me. Now this custom, the one I’m used to, is practised by the Salvation Army, Routes to Roots and pretty much any and every church based organisation helping out those who are rough sleeping.


The worst are the pimps on the prowl, has London been involved in a military conflict necessitating the evacuation of all pimps to Poole? Because I swear I never encountered as many pimps and would-be-pimps as I am currently encountering. Does this have something to do with policing priorities or policing budgets? These people should be hiding down alleys, they should only crawl out late, very, very, late at night, instead of which they are as brazen as all hell. Why am I complaining so constantly and so vociferously?

Because a town that already has policies and seminars on domestic violence, and child sex abuse, ought to have an inkling of what to do about grown men menacing down and out teenagers in this way. Seriously, who would want to know that their emotional mess of a child, is about to be made even messier, by prowling pimps and the drugs they utilise in order to keep their ‘asset’ or ‘assets’ under control?


Now, I do believe that I’m offending a some Poole town dwellers (seriously, they ain’t offended enough to do something about it though!) with some of the stuff I’m writing, so I’ll move off the topic of pimps and vulnerable teens.

Good news, A. has decided to travel to a family do in Liverpool, here’s hoping that some relative with a heart takes A. under their wing so he doesn’t have to sleep rough in Poole any more. A. sleeps rough because Poole provides no social housing or affordable housing to a young person who actually happens to be working, and who became homeless through no fault of their own.

C & D are approaching Poole’s housing team to find out if it’s possible to get moved up north. Apparently Poole is relocating some homeless people up north and paying for the relocation, there has to be a catch in this somewhere, but the idea of having a secure roof is too much of a turn on for folk to reject the offer when and if  it’s made. E has been offered accommodation, but is so used to sleeping rough, that he may very well be back out on the streets again in due course. E is in the minority, the majority of the people we’ve met want to be rehoused, instead they find themselves obliged to celebrate the councils budget surplus.

D1PJ8T Poole Borough Council Coat of Arms 'Ad Morem Villae de Poole' displayed on the harbour bridge

Some readers might ask how come I have been so ‘privileged’ as to oberve and complain comment on all my eyes have seen. The answer to that is that I have no money, no job and no stable roof over my head (currently). This makes me persona non grata and if there is one thing I have learnt in my time as a temp, it’s that folk will often show you the ugliest sides of themselves and you are also considered fair game for any crap they might care to pull…..when you are persona non grata. If I counted they’d slap a thick layer of ‘niceness’ on all the stuff I’m seeing accidentally, if I counted.