Soho is a theme park. Before, it was a nest of gangsters, whores, musicians, homosexuals, alcoholics, actors, transvestites, cholera, poverty, and immigrants. Today it is gentrification masquerading as debauchery. A lamb in wolf’s clothing. 


Residents fight for ‘urban greening’ and ‘equitable accessibility’. Haute cuisine establishments claim ‘seedy excess’ as one of their ‘key attributes’. Bars with £10 pints stage fetishised dwarf shows. Exclusive residences provide lavatories with flat, glossy, sanitised surfaces. Developers choke out independent businesses, which then feature on their demolition hoarding. Nouveau riche homosexuals drink here for one week a year, whilst their older comrades who enjoy the sticky saloons slowly die.


What of old Soho? The sex shops where their suited owners still patrol. The sparsely lit corridors lead up a shambolic staircase. The velvet and waxy clubs. The shambolic streets. The public bacchanalia. @baritaliasoho @frenchhousesoho @officialronnies @sunsetstripsoho La Capaninna. @barbruno101


Old Soho did return. A few days of spontaneous outdoor revelry. Restrictions were lifted, and al fresco arrived. What is the English word for al fresco? Swiftly defeated, so now sensibility reigns. Dining returned indoors. The old bastions of Soho are still here. They will be picked off one by one. Go while they are still here.



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