Nelson Galaxy

The crazies were out in force this morning. The filthy, smelly, spit-covered Whitechapel streets were being patrolled by the mental and the drunk. It is often frightening. There were tribes of disgusting, ugly men and women sprawled all over the pavements, lying in their own sick and screaming at the world.

There is one particularly unpleasant little chap. He has been around the homeless missions of Whitechapel for years and is recognisable by his appearance – he is a filthy tiny midget. As he saw me walking past the steps to the Royal London Hospital he gave chase, his little legs trying to match my massive stride.

I smelt him before I felt him tugging at my trousers. The stench of human excrement was overwhelming. He is one of the filthiest people I have ever seen, his face was black and maggots were crawling in his hair. His cut-off trousers were covered in brown human gunk and the stains of urine and sick were evident on his jacket.

He took a swig from his over strong gravy beer and aggressively demanded money and cigarettes. I was worried that his head was at the same level as my crotch, this could go very wrong. I apologised that I had no such items while trying to remove his grip without touching his hand. He spat on my shoe. I may have lurgee.

A few seconds later I passed a very attractive lady, wearing a smart City suit and carrying a lap top. She too was drinking the over strong gravy beer. Whitechapel will do that to you.