|On the game.|
|Let me assure you, drinks here aren't free.|
Narrated in a stern, sardonic way by American David Gell, the commentary is unsympathetic: the girls are con artists, the punters are fools, the business leads to disappointment and depression and self-disgust. In one interesting sequence, a young girl arrives from the country to make her way in the big city – within a few minutes she is in the car of a swarthy, seedy looking man sharing cigarettes and off colour jokes – the next evening, she’s working in his clip joint, letting herself be pawed in public for a half crown commission on every ludicrously expensive soft drink purchased. I’ve no idea how realistic this scenario is, but it's effectively put across – I shall certainly be much more careful on my next trip to London.
|From country girl...|
|...to Soho tart.|
|A typical tart. Please note hard face but wistful eyes.|
|'Would you like a massage with your extras, Sir?'|
|He genuinely thinks she fancies him, the twat.|
|'Sexy, ain't I?'|
|'Annuver quid and I'll flip 'em out'|
* As an aside, the Wolfenden Committee used the codewords 'Huntley & Palmers' in order not to offend the delicate sensibilities of the female members of the enquiry. A Huntley was a homosexual; a Palmer a prostitute. I find this sad and funny in equal measures.