Dodgy Brixton

I woke up at 4am by a strange, loud sound of something bashing against the window. "They're fucking outside" said S. I immediately remembered the time E (the former resident of this flat) told us how "a crack-whore fucking against his window" kept him up at night, and how sick he was of Brixton.
S turned the light on, and shouted 'Stop it'. For a while the bashing stopped, but then it started again, in a steady rhythm. 'Stop it!' it was just getting stronger and faster. I could imagine them
outside and the thought was disgusting. I was just hoping they get it over with so we could go back to sleep. Strangely, there were no human sounds - no sighs or breathing or anything. But still the bashing didn't stop. "This is outrageous. I'm going to throw a glass of water on them through the kitchen window". "No!" said S, "what if it's someone in distress?"
Of course they're in distress, I said.
I'm going upstairs to I+M, to have a look through the window.
But you'll wake them up!
D is sleeping on the sofa, he'll let me in.
As S left the noise starte again. This time I shouted with the top of my voice: GO AWAY! and it stopped. A couple of minutes passed and it was still quiet.
I was falling back to sleep, when I heard the key in the door.

'You won't believe what it was,' said S, disappearing quickly again. I heard the front door of the building open, and then a happy miaouwing, and the footsteps of R's cat running upstairs.
"I'm sick of Brixton" said S "the cats here are so rough".