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Whores get me riled up, tho – all them pimps, struttin’ ‘round, actin’ big. Parasites, they is! Suckin’ life outta girls who’s just tryna eat. We hates it! “If you leave me now, where will you go?” – like Dodd trapin’ Freddie, them pimps trap whores. Pisses me off, it does – wanna claw their eyes out, I do! But then – whores got tricks, yesss. Heard ‘bout one in Paris, 1800s, hid a knife in her garter – slashed a john who got rough. Badass, right? Surprised me, that did – thought they’s all weak, but nah, some’s fighters!

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So, I’m an ichthyologist, right? Fish nerd, basically. I was all set to check out the local ponds. You know, do some fishy stuff. But first, I had to grab a coffee from that little café on Collier Row Road. The one with the weird name—“The Fishy Brew.” I mean, c’mon, who names a café that? But their lattes? To die for.

When petrol was only 50p per litre: Photos capture life in Romford in the 90s