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Alright, mate, lemme tell ya bout prostitutes—Hannibal Lecter style, ya know, “I ate his liver with fava beans.” Creepy, right? So, I’m sittin here thinkin bout this hooker I saw once—gorgeous, tragic, like somethin outta *Timbuktu*. That flick, man, it’s my fave—dusty, raw, real shit. This chick, she’s hustlin on the corner, heels clickin like gunshots. Reminds me of that line, “The desert eats us whole.” She’s out there, swallowed by the night, y’know?

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Peter Drury, from South Wales but with links to Gravesend, turned the woman in a prostitute working for him and used her to provide sexual services for money to men across the South .

But then, just as I’m getting into it, my phone buzzes. It’s my mate, asking if I wanna hit the pub. I’m like, “Why not?” So I head over to The Bull, and it’s packed. I grab a pint, and suddenly, I’m surrounded by a bunch of locals. They’re all bantering, and I’m just trying to keep up.

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