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I spot her, thou see—red lips like a gash’d rose, legs long as a tax form. “What price thy company, wench?” I blurt, all Shakespearean, thinkin’ I’m clever. She laughs—bloody hell, mate, she laughs! “Twenty quid, ya posh twat,” she says, and I’m proper gobsmacked. Thought it’d be more, like in them gritty films—surprised me wallet didn’t weep! “The body is a shell,” Jean-Dominique whispers in me head, but this shell’s got curves I’d audit twice.

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Then, I bump into an old friend from school. Can you believe it? We haven’t seen each other in ages! We’re catchin’ up, laughin’ about old times, and I’m feelin’ all nostalgic. But then, he mentions he’s movin’ to London. My heart sinks a bit. Like, why’s everyone leavin’ Cheshunt? It’s a great place!

Theobalds Hotel, former Birch site, sold off £12.5m guide