Knightsbridge Hookers

Women fuck for money across the breadth of this green and pleasant land. However, most would agree that the red light districts of say Ipswich, Wolverhampton and Southampton whilst perfectly functional, lack a certain something.

For as long as I can remember, my interest is focused on the whores of Knightsbridge. I am not precious about the geographical bounds of Knightsbridge - by extension, Brompton, South Kensington and Chelsea.

Now whoever you are, you will agree that Knightsbridge is far from squalid and seedy. On the contrary, Knightsbridge is glossy, affluent and respectable. And Knightsbridge is stuffed full of escorts, hookers, whores and prostitutes. I like the dictonomy.

Where do I start? Martin Amis first alerted me in his novel Dead Babies to a fictional whorehouse on Pont Street. I was blessed to look out over Pont Street from my office window for seven years. With my vivid imagination...

My first encounter with a hooker was in Shepherd's Market, Mayfair. I was seeing a barmaid in The Shepherd, who kindly introduced me to the whore, who came into the pub after a punter to have a double vodka. A charming lady indeed working in the room above the Kodak shop.

The Chelsea Agency, 1st floor, 51 Beauchamp Place, is open from 7.30pm until late. I have never ventured up there.

JaKs on Lower Sloane Street, a wonderful nightclub in years gone by, was taken over by the management of Jimmyz in 2001. It is now a venue where stinking pakis pick up minging Eastern European hookers.

The lease on Jimmyz on Sloane Avenue was not renewed at about the same time because of its reputation as a pick-up joint. Someone called Jimmy had been to Jimmyz and had left with a girl. He decided, despite living on Moore Street, to take a taxi back home. Just outside The Codrington, he had summoned enough courage and stuttered to the girl "Er, how much then"? She immediately asked the driver to stop and got out. Jimmy was both bewildered and empty-handed.

I remember the first time I went to Raffle's on King's Road: I was 19 and with my sister, girlfriend and her friends. I had allowed £20 for the evening, ordered 2 gin & tonics and was charged £13.50. I spent the rest of the night stealing bottles of champagne. Raffle's, chiefly populated by posh nobs and sluts, used to attract regular hookers who specialized in clogging up the bar crudely attempting to hook punters. I found out that two of them had a flat opposite the venue and they would take customers back, fuck them, and then come back looking for more work. My hat's off.

The appartment blocks on Sloane Avenue are synonomous with hookers. The Chelsea Cloisters, Nell Gywnne House and Sloane Avenue Mansisons are populated by scores of ladies. Add to this the block overlooking South Ken station and you have an oasis of inbound entertainment.

Like all of London, public telephone boxes advertise a host of services on cards, which eager Eastern European replenish at regular intervals. Always handy. You can always tell her to fuck off if she doesn't meet the required standard.

The Townhouse on Beauchamp Place, The Art Bar on Walton Street and Eclipse on Walton Street overflow with hookers. As destination venues, they also attract Essex girls and gold-diggers hand-in-hand with the local Eurotrash.

There is a lovely old dog-walker, living behind The Surprise, who still services 3 clients a week. Her best customer has been with her for 30 years, 3 slots a week, regular as clockwork.

The Wilton Arms on Kinnerton Street is a favourite resting place for the working girls of the Sheraton Hotel and The London Park Tower casino.

A well-known Saudi prince visits London chiefly to drink, to do some drugs and to fuck as many high-class hookers as possible. The Saudi-owned Carlton Towers Hotel (now The Jumeirah Carlton Towers) is his highly-discrete base. He and his friends order all of the hookers from a well-established escort agency. They line them up in a room. They pick the girls they want for the weekend and pay off the others and send them away. They fuck them and play games with them all weekend.

The Blue Bar at The Berkeley Hotel, Wilton Place, is usually fun. All the women look fabulous. It is just a case of distinguishing the gold-diggers, the hookers and the bona fide hotel guests in that order.

The 5th Floor Bar at Harvey Nichols is a hooker haven. When you walk into the bar, pause, look around and see how many ladies catch your eye. Most have seen better days. Good luck.

The brothel on Market Mews with its open doors behind The Hilton, Park Lane, is at the opposite end of the market. You can get you rocks off there for £15. These doors advertising models continue through Shepherd Market into Soho. Whilst fascinating in their own rights, I am not sure I have too much in common with the Albanian gangster running unsophisticated girls.

The introduction of the internet to the business has reaped rewards. Tatler (and my friend Harry) "recommend" The Gallery, a fantastic service based in South Kensington. Choose a girl from www.the-gallery.co.uk and you are in business. The last time I looked going rate is £300 per hour. Bond & Mayfair offer a similar, local service. Pick a girl from www.bondandmayfair.com. Mmm mmm - they even have English girls. Consult the internet for countless other outfits and independent operators.

Just to bring everything up to date, the Russians (and by extension, Ukrainians et al) have changed everything in Knightsbridge. There are a lots of them and they are everywhere. They are tall and blonde, they look good, they dress correctly, they carry themselves well and they are trained to deliver. They love to fuck. Respect.