Duh to you too Steve! Heh heh, it implies a rather odd implication to 'I love a lassie, a bonnie bonnie lassie' (Sir Harry Lauder)

When I moved down to Norwich, I again searched for a house to buy, and rented a flat meanwhile. It had a very sloping floor (subsidence) and the house next door was evidently a drug den. Weird-looking people would totter up to the door bearing suspicious items and mysterious plastic bags, and emerge later with zombie-like expressions.

I asked the Police if they knew, and they replied that yes, of course they did (!!) but preferred to let it continue as 'they knew where all the druggies would roll up and it made things simpler'. But they never raided it.
My later work with prisoners revealed that this address was very well-known all over Norwich and was like Aladdin's cave inside, waist-high in stolen goods and people doing heroin (heating it up on tinfoil and injecting it) all over the floor.

Ha! I've certainly seen life haven't I?