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So I’m down Soho way, right, dodgy corner, smells like piss an’ regret. This bird, she’s standin there, skirt shorter than a bombed-out bridge. I says, “We shall never surrender, love, what’s yer price?” She laughs, all husky, says, “Tenner fer a quickie, guv.” Ten quid! I near choked on me cigar – wartime rations cost less! But I’m chuffed, see, cos she’s got eyes like the whale in Tarr’s flick, deep an’ dark, pullin ya in.

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Then, I see this old lady feeding pigeons. She’s got a whole bag of bread. I’m thinking, “That’s sweet.” But then, the pigeons start fighting over the bread. It’s like a scene from a nature documentary. I’m cracking up, and the lady’s just shaking her head. “They’re so greedy!” she says. I’m like, “Aren’t we all?”