'Come and see my show. We have boys and girls upstairs!'

I move out of the hotel I've been staying in on Monday, and head towards a cheaper option - $20 a night cheaper - in the King's Cross area of Sydney.

There must be something about the name of the place, as this is renowned for being the favourite area for hookers and drug pushers in the city. As I come out of the train station, a rather hagged looking bird offers me some weed, which I politely decline.

My hotel is more basic than the last place, but that's life. Until I find somewhere to call home I'm going to have to cut my cloth, tighten my belt and so on.

The hotel is actually fine. And although the area does have more than its fair share of sex parlours, it's nothing like Soho. In fact, apart from one line of dodgy looking places, it's actually a nice part of town with good restaurants and bars. It's also quieter than where I was before (Chinatown).

My hunt for a room to live in hots up, so to speak, as I arrange to see two people about spare places going. The first guy I meet - a 23 year-old American called Matt - cuts short our meeting as he has to go the police station to report his former flat mate, who he had evicted, for stealing his IKEA sofa and some bottles of wine he bought from a festival in Adelaide.

The next prospective flat mate I meet with is a 39-year-old called Tony, who has a very nice 11th floor apartment over-looking the harbour in Double Bay. The place ticks all the boxes - lovely flat with a good sized room, wireless internet, decent price with bills included. The complex even has a pool and he seems like a nice enough bloke too, but I am a bit uneasy about the idea of moving in. I have reservations about how much we have in common, his apartment is in a part of Sydney where most people retire to, and I'm not sure if the dynamics are right for a house share. He said there are only two house rules - no drugs or one night stands. Fair enough, it's his house. But he then went on to admitting using a male escort about once a month to - and I quote - "sort the plumbing out". So, let's re-cap that one again. Meet somebody in a bar and want to take them home? No way. Prostitutes? Come on down.

Oh, maybe I'm being harsh. He is obviously a nice guy and is very intelligent (an actor, model manager), but I'm uncomfortable with the idea. Better find somewhere soon though...