murder of Sarah Everard

Sarah Everard was last seen near Clapham Common at night. I used to live in South London and I know that street prostitution occurs on Clapham Common at night. So I can't help wondering if her murder was anything to do with street prostitution. Was Sarah targeted by a man because he thought she was a street girl?

Street girls go to Clapham Common and Tooting Bec Common at night because if they went there in the day they would be arrested. They would be in breach of their ASBO. At night it's easier to hide from the police. If you go alone without a friend it is easier to hide from the police. This makes them very vulnerable to any man who wants to harm women. Some of these men are punters and some aren't.

I don't want to use the death of a young woman to promote my opinions, unlike some people in the media. Also I could be completely wrong: it might be that the murderer did not see drug-addicted street-based sex workers as a better option for a murder. It might have been random. Or he might not have intended to murder.

Street girls are always dressed scruffily, just as Sarah was that night.

Sarah, also seen wearing a white beanie hat and Covid mask, walked across Clapham Common before coming on to the A205 South Circular Road.

Manchester brothels and RLD

Last Friday I was in Manchester and I went there again yesterday. My plan was to find the beauty that I had seen in a brothel but hadn't chosen. Then I thought I could go to the Thai massage place where I had been before.

I would take whichever masseur was offered to me. I might get the nice lady who had brought me to orgasm the week before or I might get a younger prettier one. I had seen a younger prettier one at reception. Either way would be good. I planned to have a less sleazy time than my last time but that is not how it worked out.

Before I went to the Piccadilly Club to try to find the beauty I decided to stop off at a place nearby that I hadn't tried. Looking at the Adult Services 18+ section in the Manchester Evening News I worked out where each brothel was. There are about 20 listed, far more than in Liverpool. The only one that I hadn't tried near the city centre was Lounge 56 in Swan Street.

I went up the stairs and a lady said that she has four women for me to choose from. At the Piccadilly Club there are four women but they are standing in a row when you come up the stairs. At Lounge 56 they came in one by one while I was sitting down. The first two were young skinny short girls which I am sure would be some men's dream girls but not for me. The third one was a plump dark skinned woman who I thought looked Brazilian. The fourth was a black woman.

I chose the plump dark woman. I think I paid £40 for half an hour but I can't remember. I thought she would be just the type that turns me on but it didn't work out that way. It could be that she spoke very little English. She said she's Spanish and I can't remember her name but it's something like Dea.

I walked along the road to the Piccadilly Club. Up the stairs there were two women available. Camille was one of them. I asked the receptionist if the pretty girl who was here last week is here. I described her. She said she didn't know who I was talking about. Then another woman came into the room who was nice so I chose her. I paid £35 for a half hour.

Katie has everything that a man could want in a sex worker. She's pretty, glamorous, easy to talk to, chatty and fun loving. In the room she took hold of my cock and got it erect. I asked her about the beauty but she said she didn't know who I meant and the rota on Fridays tends to change a lot. Katie is a young blonde woman and sounds as if she comes from Manchester.

We did a lot of things together. We did it with her on top. Then with me on top. I suggested we tried it with her sitting on the chair. I knelt on the floor in front of her and when my cock was inside her I lifted up her legs. That didn't seem to work though. I said it would be really nice to kiss her, not expecting her to accept this. She said 'You can kiss me if you want'. So we had a snog.

Even though it was great with Katie I still hadn't come. I thought I could try somewhere else. I could have gone along the road to Passions, but I thought it would be Julia again there with the older oriental woman. I could have gone to Cosmopolitan or Tropical Palms. I have been to both of them, although not had sex at Tropical Palms. Instead I thought I would try one that isn't close to the city centre but not far out.

Salon 24 is at the far end of Park Street. It doesn't look a nice area, but when you get into the building it's OK. I was told I could choose between three women. Or was it four? I can't remember, I can only remember the first and last women I was offered. The first one was plump. The last one was even plumper, and looked as if she might be Italian.

I chose Sasha, the first woman. I had heard her laugh and thought she sounded good fun. I think I paid £40 for a half hour. I went upstairs to a big room with an enormous bed along the whole width of the room. It was like three double beds joined together. There was a porn video playing on a TV and mirrors on the wall and ceiling. Sasha looks about 40 and has a nice face. She sounds like a local lass too. So it just goes to show they're not all foreigners these days.

We started off with a bit of a massage. I said I wanted her to lie on her back so I could see her pussy. She had a big pussy, quite nice looking. I shouldn't think that her vagina would be tight, which is what some men require. I got on top of her. It felt nice being on top of such a big woman. When we were fucking she was moving about and making noises. I said to her that it would be better if she didn't move about. She continued to make her 'Ah! Ah!' noises. I said it would be better if she didn't make noises. Then I told her what I wanted her to say. I told her to say 'Fuck my pussy'. She did what I asked and it didn't take long before I came on top of her.

I had a shower before I left. One idea I had at the back of my mind was to try and find the Red Light District in Manchester. I had found a website where it said where it is. I wasn't sure if I should bother because I have tried to find Red Light Districts in recent years, finding nothing although suspecting it might be different if I came back at 2 am. I didn't want to have sex there, I just wanted to see what it's like.

So I went down Fairfield Street near Piccadilly station. I didn't see any prostitutes in the streets I looked in. I wasn't really expecting to, it was mid afternoon. Then at the corner of St Andrew's Street and Helmet Street I saw them. There was a fat woman standing on the corner trying hard to attract business. There was a black woman and an old white woman sitting on some steps. In Helmet Street I could see a woman sitting on a wheelie bin on its side.

The fat women tried to talk to me but I walked past. These were the sort of women so familiar to me yet I hadn't seen for years. I felt in danger. In danger of her being a woman police officer. In danger of being robbed. In danger of meeting a woman I might become obsessed with. Not in danger of taking drugs and getting addicted: I had been in this situation before and never come anywhere near to trying what they're on.

So I walked on, up St Andrew's Street to St Andrew's Square. At the northern end of St Andrew's Square where it meets Adair Street I saw a very beautiful glamorous woman. She was sitting on a wall. Well away from the other women. I could hardly believe she could be a street girl. I walked past her but looked back to see what she was up to. She looked as if she was Asian, with a dark skin.

I thought I saw her talk to someone in a car but then come back to where she had been sitting. I walked up to her. I said 'Hello'. When I said 'Can I talk to you?' she said 'I only do it in the car'. It was only then that I was sure she is a sex worker. I didn't try to talk to her after that but walked away.

So I started out looking for a beauty and not finding her and ended up finding another beauty in very different circumstances. If anyone reading this knows about either of these two beauties, please can you tell us something about them, their names and what they do. I find them fascinating and I'm sure I'm not the only one to do so.

street girls in Liverpool and Croydon

When I was a visitor to Liverpool I looked for street girls and couldn't find any. Now I live here it seems that I have found one or two without even looking. Soon after I moved into my new flat a young woman asked me for money in the street where I live. I didn't give her any money and I didn't want to talk to her. A few days ago an older woman asked me for money.

I saw her talking to a man and guessed that she was begging. Then she walked towards me and called 'Charlie!'. I continued walking away from her. She called 'Charlie!' again. I turned round and said 'My name's not Charlie'. She said that she needed some money because something traumatic had happened to her and she needed to make a phone call. She did look quite distressed so I decided to give her a pound.

She asked me if I came from London and I said I did. She said what part of London and I said Croydon. She said that she used to live in Croydon, in Pawsons Road. There is a Pawsons Road in Croydon and it's not a well known road so I thought she must be telling the truth. I asked her if she knew any of the street girls that I had known in Croydon.

I asked her if she had known Trina Schofield. Trina is someone I met a few years ago. I had met lots of street girls when I went to Tooting Bec Common more than ten years ago. I have talked about many of them in my early posts on this blog. Trina wasn't one of those though.

In 2008 there was a group on the internet that discussed street girls. Trina's name was mentioned. I could see she lived not far from me. Steve said she was "the best deep throat I've ever had". Someone called pervez aktar said "best blowjob in the world" and "she gives the best head in the world". However, she could be very unreliable. Steve said "Don't try to work out what's going on. You need white brown and meth and it will make perfect sense".

I got her phone number, phoned her and went to her flat. I saw Trina three times in all. The second time it worked out quite well but she was too unpredictable. The last time I saw her she went off with my money. Years after that I saw a newspaper article about her. The headline was 'Vulnerable Croydon woman died after taking heroin with friends'. Apparently Trina had injected a mentally ill woman with heroin who then died.

A few years ago I met a woman I will call Amy. I liked her (unlike Trina) so I won't say her real name. The first time I saw Amy she was begging outside McDonald's in the North End Croydon. She said she needed money to get somewhere to sleep for the night. The second time I saw her was in Beulah Road. I spoke to her briefly and I asked her if she knew Trina. She said she did. I saw her a few more times, once at a bus stop.

In 2012 a woman who I had known from Tooting Bec Common contacted me by email. She had found out that I had mentioned her on my blog. I will call her Bernie. We corresponded by email and I learned a lot from her about the Common and the women who went there. You might ask how does a street girl keep in touch with someone by email. She mostly used a BlackBerry. Bernie knew Trina very well, she told me they often worked together.

Anne Marie/Anna/'Mummy'

Bernie sent me two accounts of her life. One of them was a day in the life of a street girl. I put both of them on my blog - she wanted me to - but she asked me to remove them after friends started asking if she had written them. She said that she had known someone who she called 'Mummy'. I thought she was referring to a black woman called Jodie but it was someone else.

Mummy died of an overdose. I got this photo of Mummy from the internet group. Someone had taken photos of her and other prostitutes working in the Kings Cross area of London. I put some of these photos on my blog and Bernie recognized her. I think Mummy had worked on the Common but I never met her.

One of the last emails I got from Bernie was worrying. She said that her best friend Stacey had died. She said that she was worried about being evicted because she was in arrears with her rent. She had been out to try and earn some money but had not made anything. Bernie didn't reply to my next email to her.

Weeks later I was going into Croydon on the bus and I saw Amy walking along. I got off the bus and rushed along North End trying to find her. I thought I had lost her but then I saw her. I went up to her and said that I had spoken to her before. I said that she had told me she knows Trina, does she know Bernie too? I wanted to know what had happened to Bernie.

Amy took me into McDonald's. I offered to buy her a coffee but she said she would prefer it if I just gave her the money. She told me that she and Bernie were good friends. Bernie had had a stroke and was now in hospital. She said that Bernie was being looked after by her father.

It's quite common for crack addicts to get strokes. I did get one more email from Bernie, a long time later. She said she's in a hospital in a particular area of London and she's getting better. Someone said there's a well known hospital in that area for brain injuries.

I had met Trina, Amy and Bernie under different circumstances so it surprised me that they all knew each other. But then I suppose it's not really surprising that drug addicts would all know each other. More recently last year in Croydon I met a black girl called Angel who knew Trina well.

The woman I spoke to just a few days ago said she hadn't known Trina, or any of the other street girls I named. That wouldn't be surprising if she left Croydon quite a few years ago.

She asked me if I'm a bachelor. I said yes. She asked me if I liked a drink. I said yes. She asked me if I would like her to come to my flat sometime and we can have a drink together. I said that I'm not sure about that because I'm a bit wary of people living in this area. She had also asked me what my name is and where I live but I told her I would prefer not to say. I can only assume she makes money from prostitution. I'm not sure, the only way I could find out would be to invite her in, but I'm not going to do that.

She saw someone on the other side of the road and said she had to go and talk to him. As she went off she said 'What's your name again?' and I replied 'Peter'. That's not my name. I have decided that I don't want her to come to my flat. I don't want to have anything to do with these people. It's not worth the risk. It might lead to people tapping on my windows in the early hours of the morning or maybe even a burglary. They're not all bad people though. Amy and Bernie were nice, and I feel sorry for Trina more than dislike her.

I thought I'd found some street girls

Last month I went to Liverpool again. I didn't look for any sex workers this time. After listening to a radio programme about St James Gardens I wanted to see it again. I used to go there sometimes when I was living in Liverpool in the 1980s. It is described as 'once a derelict no-go area' formerly frequented by drug addicts. This surprised me because when I used to go there I didn't notice any drug addicts or syringes, even though I keep an eye open for that sort of thing.

I only ever saw one prostitute there. Above the gardens is Hope Street which was the red light area. I was riding my bike along Hope Street one day on my way to the city centre. I saw one woman waiting on the street corner. I had never seen her before, she was beautiful. I went into St James Gardens and sat on a park bench. After a while she walked past me with a man, giving me a big smile. I wanted to see where they were going so I followed them. When I found them they were hugging. She saw me and I made a hasty retreat, although the man was a lot smaller than me he might have got aggressive. I never saw her again.

After I came back to London I saw a TV programme that said there were drug addicts and prostitutes causing problems for residents near Brick Lane. There used to be a street in east London called Flower and Dean Street. It was a notorious slum and associated with theft and prostitution. A couple of Jack the Ripper's victims came from there. Today it no longer exists, but there is a Flower and Dean Walk.

I had a look round this area, and where Flower and Dean Walk meets Brick Lane I saw several women standing around. I felt sure that they were street girls. None of them propositioned me, but these days street girls have to be very wary of the police. The only way I could have found out for sure is if I had gone up to them and talked to them. I wasn't interested in doing anything with them though. Now I think they were probably just people waiting outside the medical centre for homeless people.

I thought it might be possible that women have been waiting on that spot since Victorian times. It's an area with an interesting history, today it is a Bengali area but before that it was a Jewish area. There are two shops where they sell salt beef, a Jewish food. When I'm in the area I have salt beef in a bagel with mustard and a cup of tea.

On Channel 4 last month there was an interesting documentary called The Fried Chicken Shop. The most interesting character in it was Jessie, the Clapham Tranny. Especially interesting for me because I remember seeing her on Tooting Bec Common years ago. She used to hang out with the street girls there waiting for men to turn up.

Some people think that Jessie is bad tempered because she got irritated with a drunk girl who she was talking to. The girl kept asking the same question over and over again when Jessie had said she didn't want to talk about that. I can understand why she became irritated. It does seem that drunk people tend to ask the same question over and over again even when someone clearly doesn't want to discuss a personal issue. In another part of the documentary a drunk man kept asking one of the shop staff a personal question, to the increasing irritation of the staff. Later the drunk man tried to climb over the counter and was taken away by the police.


Jessie, the Clapham Tranny

In all three cases, with St James Gardens, Flower and Dean Walk and Tooting Bec Common, people living nearby have complained about drug addicts and/or prostitutes. In some cases people will have exagerated the problem because they wanted to get rid of the street girls. I know that to have been true of Tooting Bec Common. From what people were saying, anyone would think that Tooting Bec Common was strewn with drugs paraphernalia and used condoms. The truth was that there were no needles or syringes and the used condoms were only on one part of the Common in the undergrowth where it would have been difficult to find them. I don't know what all the fuss was about, it's not as if a labrador choked on one.

no names no photographs

I got an email a few days ago from an angry sex worker. She found out that I had put a photograph of her on my blog. She wanted it removed. I did what she told me to do.

About three years ago I found out about a woman who lived a short bus ride from me. She does erotic massage. She comes from a Mediterranean country and is young and beautiful. I sent her an email and asked her if there are any photographs of her on the internet. She replied with a photo of her face. She hadn't modified it in such a way that she couldn't be identified. I went to see her and it was a pleasant experience, different from what I was used to. I wrote about her on this blog. I didn't give her name or her AdultWork page, but I did use the photo.

I wanted people to see how beautiful some of the women are who are available. She is as beautiful as the photo in my previous post, the photo that I thought was of a Liverpool prostitute but turned out to be of a leading model. She has the same dark Mediterranean beauty. I think she must be even more beautiful when she's angry. It's a pity she doesn't go in for domination. I deserve to be punished.

I don't think that putting her photo on my blog was much of a risk to her but I can understand that she doesn't want people pointing her out in Sainsbury's and saying something like "You see that woman there - she likes to hold men's erections in her hand and watch the semen squirting out the end of it".

In October last year I was walking to my local supermarket when I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I saw a thin scruffy woman. My immediate thought was that she is a street girl. After years of trying to locate street girls on Tooting Bec Common it is a look that I have come to recognise instantly. I looked at her face. She gave me a big broad smile, the sort of sweet smile that women can do when they really want to. She seemed kind of familiar.

I didn't know if she was an ordinary woman who was flattered by a man staring at her. Or a street girl who is always open to meeting new men. Or one of the women who I had known on the Common. She was really beautiful. I thought she might be the particular one that I had been most involved with, but I couldn't be sure. This particular woman is someone I have written about a lot when I started this blog years ago.

(This is not the street girl who has been in contact with me via email recently and who wrote two posts for this blog about her life. These two posts have been removed. She asked me to remove them because she was worried people might be able to work out that it was her who had written them.)

She had a man with her. I always said that if I saw one of the women who I had known on the Common in the street with a man then I wouldn't approach her and try to talk to her. I wouldn't want to cause a problem for them. If the man didn't know about her past he might say "Who the hell was that you were talking to?". Also, the man she was with looked quite tough and he might have taken offence with me for trying to talk to his partner.

this is not her but it reminds me of her

About two weeks ago I saw her again, alone. I went up to her and said "Are you (her name, but I'm not going to reveal it)?" We had a short conversation and then her boyfriend came along. She said "This is my boyfriend" and introduced me to him. She said goodbye and walked away.

She wasn't as beautiful as she was when I saw her a few months ago outside the supermarket. Women can seem more or less beautiful depending on their mood that day or maybe phases of the menstrual cycle. I thought that her face didn't look as thin as I remembered from years ago. Addicts do put on weight when they give up drugs.

She looked healthy. She looks as if she has given up drugs. Over the years I have asked people if they know what has happened to her. I was told by one person that she injects heroin in odd places. Later I was told by someone else that she was in prison. More recently someone told me that she'd been sectioned. She had been one of the two women on the Common who had seemed the most addicted, to crack cocaine and heroin.

When I started writing about her on this blog years ago I used her initial and not her name, as I did with all the women I met on the Common and in my neighbourhood. When I started thinking that she might be dead I thought it wouldn't do any harm to use her name and the only photograph that I have of her. Now that I know that she is not only not dead but seems to have overcome her multiple addictions I have gone though the posts on this blog removing her name and the photo.

I wouldn't want any information on this blog about her to become a problem for her. I wish her all the best for the future. If I see her again I would like to tell her that she should be proud of herself for having overcome such difficult addictions and other problems, and that if she can do that then she can accomplish anything.

I am glad that she not only remembered me but doesn't consider me to be an abuser. When I knew her on the Common I tried to be good to her. I think she thought that I was trying to save her. However, I believed that few people overcome heavy addiction to crack cocaine and heroin and that she would end up dead. I was wrong.

the southeastern corner of Tooting Bec Common
near to where the street girls used to congregate

looking for cheap prostitutes in Liverpool

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one day in the life of a street girl

I have had a terrible nights sleep. Been shaking and not feeling very well. I wake up to breakfast. A 10 bag of heroin. This will make me well enough so I can go out and make some money. If I haven't had to luxury of buying a 10 for the morning I will cook up all the used filters I have from previous fixes. (When you inject heroin you add the brown powder to water and boil it up. You add citric and you will put a filter in it. You will suck all the juice through the filter so you filter the bad stuff out of it.) So when I don't have money I will recook all the filters I have saved. Its not as effective but it will get me out of trouble if not for a short while. I found it difficult to inject this morning. I was shaky and trying my best not to miss the vein. I'm not hungry, but I eat a few pieces of chocolate to get some energy. I get dressed with the idea of trying to make money. My first idea is ask if I can borrow some money to get me through the day and then later I can earn money prostituting and can repay the money. Due to lack of credit I'm unable to ask anyone. I go shop lifting during the day. I walk into Croydon and try and get whatever I can. There is a friend I have who will take anything I get. He pays me a quarter of the value price and he sells it on at half price. Today I got 12 pairs of shoes from Next and after I got that I walked into Argos and they had on display Lawn Mowers. I got 1 of them too. All in all in made £70 this morning. I have to pay back £30 I borrowed from my friend. With the remaining £40 I plan to get crack and heroin. You can get crack and heroin in 10 or 20 bags. Some dealers will sell you a 20 rock and a 10 bag of heroin for £25. To them this is still profit because once you have your first hit of crack you won't want to stop. Their gear from these sort of dealers isn't top quality. I prefer to get my white (crack) in powder form and wash it myself. Washing meaning washing it up with bicarb to turn it into crack. Its a simple process. The cocaine powder will be on a spoon. A small amount of bicarb is added as well as a few drops of ammonia. (Please do not think I am trying to teach anyone how to do it because I wouldn't encourage anyone to live the life I lead). This mixture is then heated and stirred slowly. The crack with harden against the cold metal implement used to stir the mixture. I'm unable to buy the powder form right now because I don't have enough money. I stick with getting a 20 rock and 10 brown for 25 and also buy an extra 10 brown for later. With the remaining £5 I buy some tobacco and 4 energy drinks. There is a well known crack house in Croydon that I can buy gear from. I make my way there. Crack houses are not glamorous places and I wouldn't wish this environment on anyone. I walk in, its cold, people are sitting on the floor. It doesn't smell particularly nice and all eyes are on me. I'm under the illusion I may be the only person who has cash right now. Everyone is asking me for a roll up and I'm happy to share. I'm looking forward to my buzz so I'm not really concerned. I'm a bit shaky and not feeling great at the minute. My poison is given to me from my devil. I always carry my own equipment with me. My crack pipe, my pins, my syringes, clean tissue and sterile wipes. I smoke the crack first and then my heroin. My one and only love. I do start to feel better but I'm craving more crack now. I take a walk to my friends house who lives just behind Surrey Street market. She's a prostitute and works from AdultWork. She takes crack and smokes heroin. Luckily she never progressed to injecting. She has some crack and we have a smoke. On the promise that I will help her when she has nothing. My friend sells her body to feed her habit. She charges £150 for an hour and £100 for half an hour. She offers extras such as anal, BB (bareback), CIM, OWO and facials. Today she has a particular kind of request. The gentleman wants 2 girls for watersports. She said I had come at just the right time! She calls the client back and he takes the details and will arrive soon. While we wait she let's me use her shower and I freshen up. I give her an energy drink and we relax watching Loose Women waiting for him to arrive. He soon arrives. He has agreed to pay 250 for half an hour with 2 girls including watersports. She will pay me 100 for joining in. He's an Asian man, in his fifties. He's in a business suit and has arrived in a nice car. He seems nervous. I feel for him. It must be intimidating for him to come alone. He's entering someone else's house so he must be feeling nervous. My friend goes away to count the money so I chat to him. My friend soon arrives and we get down to business. He wants me and my friend to kiss to turn him on. We oblige. He touches us for a short while and soon he starts to wank. He says he will come soon. We move him into the bath. He lays down in the bath and continues to wank. While he is doing that me friend and I urinate on him. He soon cums and asks to have a shower. He leaves shortly after. With the money I have made I decide to buy more drugs. I go back to the crackhouse. I also buy some credit for my phone. The day progresses like this til evening. This is when I start to prostitute. I am free to take punters to the crackhouse. They don't mind and as long as I am still buying drugs its ok. If I am lucky I may get another call from my friend and work with her if not I have to work on the streets. The chemist that I get my clean syringes from also gives me condoms for free. On this particular night I'm not waiting too long for a punter. I jump in the car and the man explains that he wants to insert his tongue into me. He offers me £20. I am happy for him to do this. Its quick and pretty painless. By this time I buy a 20 crack and use my 10 brown that I have saved from earlier. Soon after I am back on the street and I am approached by a man standing at a bus stop. He says he wanted a blow job. I asked him for £40 but he is only prepared to pay 30. I accept his offer. I gave him the condom and performed my service. I still know I need at least 1 more job to get enough gear to see me through the remainder of the night and one for the morning. The last punter is a young man. He's probably early 20s. He asks can I come back to his house and have sex in his shower. He will pay me £50 for 15 mins. He lived in Purley. We drove to his house and we got into the shower. He covered me in shower gel and asked could he wash my hair which he did. He started to play with my clit and asked what turned me on. Soon he picked me up and we had quick heated sex against the wall of the shower. I was happy I had made £50 and he gave me a lift home. I gave a call to a dealer and he arranged to meet me outside my home. I got my gear and I went indoors. I relaxed and watched some TV. Before bed I had my last little treat. My heroin. Ready to do the same again tomorrow. not forgotten

life of a street girl

I always remember being happy as a child up until I was about 12. My mother and father separated when I was about one and I lived with my Mum and saw my Dad regularly. I lived in a nice house. My Mum drove a nice car.

My Mum started work in a cafe. She met a man who was a heroin addict. He came into the cafe one day with his son and didn't have any money to buy food but had explained he was hungry. The type of person my mum is, she gave them food. A relationship started and everything changed.

Violence started almost immediately. My Mum one day came to collect me from school and I noticed she had bruising on her face as well as little cuts. I also noticed we got on the bus instead of in my Mum’s car. I could only have been about nine but I remember my Mum telling me what he had done. He tied her to a chair and was mentally torturing her. He took out an injection he used for his heroin and started to stab himself violently in his arm. This is all I can remember about that particular beating. She wasn't badly hurt. The beatings would become worse.

I remember my mother at this point was starting to become depressed. I remember her seeing a doctor and sitting behind her listening to her telling the doctor how she was sexually abused by a neighbour when she was young. Her drinking increased dramatically and I remember her crying a lot.

He was then sentenced to prison for stabbing a man. I remember my Mum got better while he wasn't there. Not crying so much not drinking so much. My Mum had lost the car and we had been handed an eviction notice from our landlord. My uncle had a 2 bedroom flat not far away. We moved in there.

Shortly after moving in Mum’s boyfriend was released from prison and almost immediately moved in. I would sit in my bedroom watching movies while he would take heroin and crack with his brother and my Mum in the lounge. I hated being there. I would go and stay with my auntie to avoid going home. When I did go home, Mum would have a black eye and the place would be really dirty. Empty beers cans would be all over the floor. My Mum would stay in her bedroom lights off with a black eye. If she was unlucky she would have two black eyes and a split lip.

I would sometimes stay at home thinking I could protect her. I was wrong. He would still beat her and he would do the same to me. He would also touch me indecently and rub himself against me. While they were high I would regularly hear them having sex.

I would continually say to Mum please let's leave. She wouldn't. She would say this is my home. I begged her continuously to leave. Eventually I stopped asking.

It was at this time when I was about 15 that I started to leave the house when the beatings started. A road near to me used to be littered with prostitutes and drug dealers. After a while the girls would talk to me because they would see me so often. They would ask why I'm out so late. In general everyone was pretty nice to me.

I knew what the girls did for their profession and I know it was to feed their drug addiction but I was used to drugs at home so I wasn't so affected by it.

I was planning to go abroad with my Dad, his wife and my sisters. My Dad said I should being a hundred pounds for spending money. I knew I could not get the money from Mum. I decided I would sleep with someone for a hundred pounds. A lot of money I thought. I wasn't selling myself for next to nothing. I was going to do it for one hundred British pounds. I didn't go about it the same way my friends on the street did, I went onto a dating site on my phone and asked “Does anyone want sex for cash?”. One man replied. My Mum was in her room. I opened the door and let him in. I made sure he used a condom and the experience was pretty painless and quick. He lay on top of me and grunted for a short time.

To me, I thought easy money! My pride has not been affected with me having to see Dad without the hundred pounds. From then on whenever I needed money I prostituted myself. At this point I started to take cocaine. At first I was snorting it. It made me feel good. I was an adult. I didn't have to go home and listen to my Mum being beaten. As long as I had cocaine I could stay out and up all night and I could forget everything.

One difference was, my friends didn't snort they smoked cocaine. Eventually I was to try it. It didn't affect me straight away. It made me high but I didn't chase the buzz.

Mum was at home one day and for whatever reason her boyfriend decided he wanted to kill my Mum. He had a good go at it. After one of my benders, smoking crack all night and drinking brandy I went home. My Mum was lying on the floor, face down. The floor was completely covered in blood. My Mum was unrecognisable. He ended up going to prison for attempted murder. Luckily Mum didn't die.

The things that happened that night affected me and still do. I started to smoke crack more regularly. To try and take the images out of my mind of what he had done to her. I also started smoking heroin. I loved the sensation of crack. It was an upper. It had a fantastic buzz. But the problem with it is you feel an anxious nervous feeling while you are coming down. The only thing you can think to take that feeling away is have another hit. But then you are spending so much money. This is when I would use heroin. Heroin is a downer. It makes you a bit dopey, sleepy. This is good because when you smoke crack you stay awake. Heroin will make you tired and take away that anxious feeling.

After smoking heroin for a few days your body starts to need it. When you don't have heroin you become ill. Vomiting, diarrhoea, cramps, sweats. In order to get rid of that you have to medicate yourself with more heroin. Not before long, smoking doesn't take away these symptoms and you have to inject. Currently I am injecting. Not always. I am on a methadone programme and it is only when I'm feeling weak and I buy heroin do I inject myself. I smoke crack all day long.

When I do inject I have to inject into my groin. I regularly work as a prostitute to fund my habit and still I don't make enough. Currently I'm on a methadone programme and awaiting for funding for rehab. I will detox for 4 weeks followed by 3 months rehabilitation.

mother accused of kerb crawling

A 45 year old woman was accused of kerb crawling by Bradford police. She had parked her car in the 'red light district' to attend her amateur dramatics society. The police sent a letter to her boss making the accusation.

Anne-Marie Carroll said:-

" ... if I were a man I could protest my innocence until I was blue in the face and people wouldn’t believe me."

It is common practice for the police to send such letters to employers. The police don't care about the injustice of men getting sacked from their jobs, relationships being destroyed, children enduring broken homes. The police are supposed to oppose injustice, not create it.

Apparently in modern Britain you are guilty until you can prove yourself innocent. They used to say "if you haven't done anything wrong, then you've got nothing to worry about". That attitude has always been wrong morally, but now it is also wrong factually. Arrest has become a form of punishment in itself.

It wouldn't be so bad if it helped women, but it doesn't. This is the same red light area where Stephen Griffiths killed street girls. I know that the murders in Ipswich occurred after a police crackdown had dispersed street girls from their usual haunts and made them more vulnerable. I don't know if the same has happened in Bradford.

There are two interesting posts on the Harlot's Parlour blog. The first is about the mother accused of kerb crawling. The second is about the safety of women in Bradford.

The police are causing a lot of damage by their attitudes, and are aided and abetted by feminists like Julie Bindel and Polly Toynbee who are leading a propaganda war with their lies. Attitudes seem to be turning against them, though, with more sensible ideas coming from police officers like Deputy Chief Constable Simon Byrne.

Elise Langham - missing girl

I have been going to Soho for years and two or three times I noticed a scruffy ill-looking girl in the street, usually in the company of other people. She looked like an addict but I don't know if she was a 'street girl'. She never propositioned me. I wouldn't have gone with her, even though she was quite pretty. I would have talked to her though, and maybe bought her something to eat.

Then just recently I saw something in the window of the police office in Peter Street in Soho. There were pictures of several people, their names and details of the ASBOs they had been given. I recognised one of the photos. It was the girl I had seen. I'm pretty sure it is the same girl.

It said that she had been given an Anti-Social Behaviour Order for drugs offenses and prohibited from entering the West End or Camden for 5 years. It said this was to 'protect residents and businesses from further anti-social acts'.

I looked up the name on Google and there are several articles from newspapers from a few years ago talking about a missing girl. She had left home and people were looking for her. I got the picture below from a BBC news site.
Poster appeal for missing Elise

Police searching for a "vulnerable" 16-year-old girl are putting up posters in an attempt to find her, a month after she disappeared.

It seems strange to me that the authorities thought that the best way to deal with her was with an ASBO. Isn't there some better way of dealing with girls like this than just banning them from where they live for years? If she breaks the terms of her ASBO she will go to jail.

It could be that something radical has to happen before she can turn her life around, and the ASBO might be it. Maybe she is back in her home town or with her family and she needs to know her old way of life is no longer open to her. I doubt that this kind of approach to the problem will work though.

The little poster in Peter Street did not say she was a thief. I don't think she had been stealing from local 'residents and businesses'. So I think that to say she was anti-social and that the community needs protecting from her is just wrong. It's just another example of how police are misusing Anti-Social Behaviour laws to stop people from doing things that they don't like. If it helped them it wouldn't be so bad. But this naming-and-shaming zero-tolerance attitude isn't intended to help people and probably won't.

documentary about street girls

I like to watch documentaries about drug addiction and prostitution. A few years ago I watched one about three girls who lived in Whitechapel in the East End of London. It was part of a series called Wasted. Stacey and her two friends Laura and Kelly were homeless and it showed them squatting first in Tower House, a large derelict building, and then in a nearby house.

They were addicted to crack cocaine and heroin but the documentary didn't seem to mention the crack cocaine. I think this may be because it is easier to have sympathy for a heroin addict than a crack addict. We think of heroin addicts as being forced to do things to avoid withdrawal symptoms. There are no withdrawal symptoms from crack.

Addicts can be prescribed methadone, which removes withdrawal symptoms. In Switzerland doctors can prescribe heroin, and this seems to get better results. Although I am against drugs, I would support something similar in Britain. Obviously, a heroin addict who is prescribed methadone or heroin is still an addict even if they stop buying heroin on the street. But at least their prescription is pure and unadulterated. Heroin addicts frequently die because they can't easily control the dose they take. And they won't need to get involved in prostitution or theft to pay for heroin. In their own time they can reduce the dose.

Crack cocaine is a different type of drug and I can't see how prescribing crack could work.

Laura had something wrong with her arm which meant she couldn't brush her hair easily. I expect it is quite difficult for homeless addicts to get to see a doctor. It was very sad to see and it makes you want to try to sort them out with their health problems by taking them to a doctor, dentist and optician. It shouldn't be that difficult to get them somewhere to stay, perhaps a hostel to begin with, get benefits sorted out and a methadone script.

Laura talked about her life. She said that she got into trouble early on but it was when her grandmother died that her problems really started. Laura was blamed by her family for the death of her Nan. They said the stress of Laura getting into trouble made her grandmother ill and caused her death. Laura wasn't allowed to attend the funeral although she loved her Nan. Her parents rejected her.

Stacey wrote poems about her life. One of them was quite powerful. However, through looking on the Internet I can see that she did not actually write it. She had a version of a poem possibly originally written by Larry Jackson for a woman called Miriam. It is called My Name is Cocaine. This is my own version.

My name is Cocaine
Coke for short
I came to this land
Without a passport
Ever since then
I've been hunted and sought

I'll make a student forget his books
I'll make a beauty neglect her looks
I'll make a teacher forget how to teach
I'll make a preacher not want to preach
I'll take your money and make you dirt poor
I'll take your sister and make her a whore

I'm a compulsion too tough for the man
I'm the reason for the battering ram
If you decide to climb on my back
You'd better ride me well
For the white horse of Crack
Will take you to hell.

There's one problem with this poem and that is that 'coke' is a street name for ordinary cocaine, whereas 'crack' is short for crack cocaine. Although coke and crack are both cocaine they are not the same, crack being much stronger and much more addictive.

murdered woman, former Soho sex worker

I have found the name of the woman who was murdered after she was forced to leave the safety of a Soho walk up. Her name was Elizabeth Valad. The information below comes from this site.

The anger among the Soho sex workers, which many describe as unprecedented, has come to a head over the issuing of a compulsory purchase order by Westminster council on a property in which a number of them ply their trade.

The council says prostitution is a "blight on the local environment" and that it wishes to return the building to residential use. The women suspect the only benefits will go to property developers but what is of more urgent concern is the threat to their own safety if they are forced onto the streets.

Irene, a Soho sex worker, was a friend of Elizabeth Valad, one of the prostitutes whose body parts were found in discarded bin bags in North London over the New Year.

"Liz was working in Windmill Street before Christmas until she was forced out when the building was closed. She left for King's Cross and look at the consequences. Two other Soho girls have been murdered elsewhere in recent years - and they're just the ones we know about."

She was also known as Liz or Lizzie Valad. She worked in Peter Street in Soho I have been told.

bleak future for street girls

I like to read the PunterNet forum and sometimes I contribute. There has been a thread recently called 'Street girls'. I was going to make a contribution but I didn't get round to it and now it has been closed. There were a lot of snide remarks and it dealt with issues that have been dealt with before by myself and others in previous threads, so it wasn't a high priority for me. It was interesting how much hatred some people have for men who have sex with street girls. I think there were contributors who were not involved in prostitution but were either extreme feminists or religious.

Extreme feminists and religious people have a lot in common, although they would not like to admit it. They both take an ideological approach, see everything in black-and-white terms, and don't want to learn anything because they think they know it all already. Ideological approaches always end up harming the people that they say they want to help. They are all hypocrites because if they really wanted to help they would first try to understand what the problems are.

Now it has been decided that there will be no more discussions on the PunterNet forum of the subject of the street scene. I predict that this will make the PunterNet site less credible in the eyes of the general public. Many people will have thought “They discuss prostitution but at least they are willing to show the dark side as well as its more acceptable side”. Now they are not willing to discuss the dark side. They want to make out that it is like Secret Diary of a Call Girl. Hiding the truth will not make anything better.

There were many points raised in this thread that I would like to address. I am no longer able to contribute to the thread because it has been closed. I am no longer able to start a new thread because the subject of the street scene has been banned. So I have to do it here. There were 2 points that I thought were the most important. I will address them both in this posting and then if I can be bothered I can address other points in later postings.

Someone made the point that street girls have enormous problems and that people like me are adding to them. It is not me who is adding to their problems, it is people who want to ban things and drive them further underground.

I have mentioned Amanda Austin, the local resident who campaigned for prostitutes to be removed from Tooting Bec Common. Now it seems that she has achieved her aims. I have only seen 2 prostitutes there this year. This is probably more due to the activities of Harriet Harman and Jacqui Smith than Amanda Austin.

According to Amanda Austin the Common was awash with used condoms and drugs paraphernalia. This was a lie. Tooting Bec Common is a big park and the prostitutes restricted their activities to one small area of the park. The only used condoms that could be seen were in particular areas of the undergrowth. The only drugs paraphernalia I have ever seen in several years of going there was an improvised crack pipe. It was there for many weeks, which just shows that what rubbish could be seen was an accumulation of many weeks-worth.

I often wonder if Amanda Austin and her fellow campaigners ever thing about what has happened to these women, as I do. Perhaps they think that they have all given up drugs. I don't think they care, there seemed to be a lot of hostility to the women from residents, although of course they are always willing to shed crocodile tears if it helps them get their way.

When I first started going to the Common about 9 years ago, there were many women there of different types. I would say 3 different types. There were women who occasionally went to the Common when they had rent to pay or a bill, or because of delays in getting benefits. There were other women who drank or took some drugs but were not addicts, or who would not have considered themselves addicts but recreational users. The third group were the hardened drug addicts who came to the Common because it was a safer and easier option for them than getting into cars at 2 or 3 in the morning in New Park Road or Brixton Hill.

What has happened to these women is different in each case.

The first group will be having even more problems because of the economic downturn (caused by Harriet Harman and her chums) and they will be getting evicted or sitting in the dark or not having gas to cook their children food (Ms Harman is getting 'evicted' soon).

The second group will be shoplifting and committing other crimes. Perhaps the men in their lives will have to do more burglaries. Or maybe selling cocaine to kiddies (there has recently been a big rise in cocaine use among young people). So if Amanda Austin gets burgled and her teenage daughter gets a cocaine addiction like Daniella Westbrook it should not come as a big surprise.

And then the third group will be getting into cars at 2 or 3 in the morning in New Park Road or Brixton Hill and maybe sometimes never be seen again. They are likely to face injury. So I wonder if Harriet and Amanda and their fellow campaigners are proud of themselves about what they have achieved.

Another possibility is the more attractive and more organised women in groups 1 and 2 decide to become full-time prostitutes. Which I'm sure is not what Harriet Harman and Jacqui Smith originally intended.

The woman who made the posting that I am replying to finished by writing 'maybe it's time to go away and rethink your moral standards...?'. Ethics is a branch of philosophy that has occupied the minds of some of the most intelligent people for centuries. They have not come to any conclusions but they always stick to certain rules.

People should base their morality on thinking instead of emotion. They should be informed about issues and be willing to share information and discuss facts and opinions, without being sarcastic or insulting. They should not try to shut people up, either by intimidating them or trying to stop their contribution to the debate.

They should try to understand the consequences of their opinions and actions. If they can see that the consequences of their actions or opinions have increased human suffering then they should not continue to claim that they are altruistic. They should realize that they are not altruistic, or that they are not altruistic enough to be willing to spend a little time listening to others who know more than they do and to think about things a bit. If they are unwilling to see the consequences of their actions, as I think is the case with Amanda Austin, then they are immoral people.

How is it that so many women can be happy to bring so much misery to other women?

The other post that I want to reply to today was made by a man whose contribution was well intentioned but misguided. He said that in a job he had he encountered a street girl who told him that 'she felt that she was worthless and would never amount to anything more in life so took drugs to numb the pain she felt'. This is the sort of thing that drug addicts say to make people feel sorry for them.

The fact is that if you take a drug like cocaine, crack cocaine, heroin or crystal meth you will like it and want more. You are likely to become addicted. It has nothing to do with self-confidence or feelings of worthlessness or whether you spent your teenage years in a children's home or were abused as a child.

People think that addiction will not happen to them. They think “Well, I never lived in a children's home and I don't have feelings of worthlessness, so I'm not going to end up as a street girl”. This is a fatal (often literally fatal) error of thinking. If you think that street girls are only a certain type of unfortunate individual then you are missing an important truth.

Last year on the Common I met a woman in her thirties (I guess) called Alison. She was from Dublin. I asked her if she took crack and she said she did. I asked her if she took smack and she said she did, but only smoked it, not injected it. She said that she used to run a restaurant in Ireland. I told her that I had never taken drugs. She said don't, if you take it and you like it it can change your life. This is the sort of thing I have seen again and again in the years that I have been going to the Common. I have never seen a 'teen runaway'.

The author of this post also said that he would have liked to help this woman but she would not consider rehab. There is a reason for that. The reason for that is that the life of a crack addict is a life of much pleasure as well as pain. You may not want to believe that but people who know about drug addicts know that they are getting too much out of it to give it all up. That might sound like a crass thing to say but it is an important truth to understand. They want to party all the time.

In any case psychological opinion is changing about drug addiction. I had a CBT therapist who had worked with drug addicts. She did not see them as victims. I told her about my involvement with street girls, and that some people see me as an abuser. She could not understand this. She did not see me as an abuser, and none of the street girls have seen me as an abuser, so why should I pay any attention to dickheads?

Of course there are abusers on the street scene. Just like in any kind of prostitution or in any sphere of life. There are men who like to have women under their control and to harm them. But I have always listened to street girls and tried to help them. Just because I fuck them (occasionally) doesn't mean that I can't care about what happens to them. You might say that I am pretending that I am benefiting them and am deluded, but it is not me who is pretending to have their best interests at heart and is deluded.

There will be more abuse of street girls now. Read this from this site http://www.scot-pep.org.uk/

Since the kerb-crawling legislation came in, nobody’s drug dependency or rent arrears or benefit delays have magically cleared up overnight. Women are still working on the streets, but with many of their regular clients avoiding the scene for fear of legal repercussions, they are seeing a greater proportion of unpleasant and violent clients, with a rise in requests for sex without a condom and services at insultingly low prices. Some are resigned to being out all night, since business is slow, they still need to make money, and in some cases they haven’t a hope of meeting their curfews in homeless accommodation. Clients want them to leave their traditional areas and meet them elsewhere, so that the clients won’t be targeted by police; as a consequence sex workers are working in greater isolation with a significant threat to their personal safety.

thoughts about Trina

If things had worked out between me and Trina and I had become a regular client I would have let her take a shower at my flat. If she had been hungry I would have given her something to eat or given her a cup of tea. If she had needed to talk I would have listened. If I had a washing machine I would have been willing to wash her clothes.

I would have been willing to do this for a girl. If someone is homeless or living in a squat then this could have been important to her. But I would never have let one stay in my flat, not even for one night.

Men have an attraction towards young women. That doesn't stop when you get older. I have had an attraction towards young women since I was a child and that is not going to change. Men also have an instinct to look after young women. You may not believe that but it is true. You may want to be cynical and think that it is just about lust.

There are plenty of people - especially feminists - who want to see things in black-and-white terms, with women as victims and men as predators. Reality is more complicated than that. You can't even begin to help people if you don't want to understand reality. Men who use prostitutes are not always as bad as they are made out to be, and people who are drug addicts are not as innocent as they would like others to believe.

encounters with women with problems 2

A strange thing happened. A few weeks after encountering the almost comatose woman near where I live, I encountered another almost comatose woman. I went to have a look at the New River park near Islington. I saw a young woman looking at one of the information boards. She was leaning over it and slumping on top of it. At one point it looked as if she had gone to sleep.

I went over to her and asked if she was OK. I said she could come and sit next to me on a park bench and we could talk. She said that her name was Zoe. I learned that she took drugs and lived nearby with other people but was not happy where she lived. She offered me a cigarette.

She does have sex with men for money but there was nowhere that we could go to. There was no point in me taking her phone number because she lives in a different part of London to where I live. She said that she was there to meet a friend in a different part of the park and asked me if I wanted to walk with her. I thought this might not be such a good idea so I said no. I didn't know if she was going to meet a man or a woman.

As I was walking away I noticed a woman who looked as if she might be waiting for a punter. I didn't go and talk to her. It makes me wonder is New River park is a place where street girls go to pick up men.

Last week I was walking along Charing Cross Road in central London and I saw a woman I wrote about in a previous post. She had told me her name was Langdon but I don't know if that is her real name. I went up to her and said hello. I was expecting her to not to want to talk to me, as happened the last time I spoke to her.

Instead she was quiet friendly. She asked me where I was going and I said I was going over the road to the Subway fast food place. I asked her if she wanted to come with me. She said yes. I asked her if she wanted anything to eat but she just had a soft drink and I had a coffee.

She seemed to be better dressed than before and looked OK. She didn't want to speak much. She spent a lot of time staring out of the open door, presumably looking at the passing people. I watched her face and sometimes it seemed as if she had remembered something or was thinking deeply about something. I asked her if she needed anything from the shop but she said she did not.

She wanted to know where I was going that afternoon. I asked her if she knew that there was a lovely park near here called Phoenix Gardens. She did not know it and was willing to go with me. When we got there I showed her the sculpture of the horse's head in the foliage and the banana tree. She wouldn't sit down and she put up her umbrella even though it was neither rainy or very sunny.

I asked her if she had been here before and she said no she had not. I asked her if she would like to see the pond. She said she had already seen it but I said there is a much bigger pond over there. We went to see it and I pointed out the shoal of tiny fish. I sat on a bench and she stood there a long time just looking at things.

She wanted to know my address and phone number and she copied them down carefully. Then she went back to looking at the pond, just standing there. After a while I said to her "Would you like to give me your address?" This was a mistake as she looked a bit embarrassed and then said that she was going. Perhaps she did not want me to know that she lived in a hostel. There is a hostel at the northern end of Greek Street, where I have seen her twice.

I am glad that I introduced her to Phoenix Gardens. I hope that she goes there often from now on. Much better than walking the streets. I felt that I had done my good deed for the day. I thought about telling the people working in the gardens about her so that they can look out for her. Perhaps I will see her the next time I go to Phoenix Gardens.

It may surprise you to learn that I like the countryside. I often walk ten miles across open countryside. Sometimes I encounter horses. I like to try and get them to come up to me. Sometimes I think that they will come to me but then something happens and they go away. I get the same feeling from some of the women that I meet in different circumstances.