A London prostitute with a literary background narrates a picaresque tour of the area where she works. On the front cover Kathy Acker is quoted as saying that the book is 'A repellent, sick psychodrama that is sadistic, morally reprehensible and has no redeeming features whatsoever. I loved it!' She is right, though some readers may beg to differ about the last three words.
To tell the truth, watching a man being shagged to death, especially a bloke like Alan Abel who appeared reluctant to die, can get pretty tiresome. The girls were still being switched every five minutes but listing their names is unlikely to hold the attention of anyone who isn't a devotee of hardcore cinema. To help pass the time, some of the girls present began exchanging ridiculous sob stories they'd palmed off on the innumerable Christians who traipse the streets of the East End attempting to save fallen women. My contribution to this crack was to put an end to it.