The Flying Scotsman, King's Cross  

The sex industry may be a £30 billion a year business, but this demoralising dive shows how the chink of coins fuels the bottom of the barrel realities. As one girl writhes on the tiny, raised stage, the next turn is circulating with the collecting pint pot. It's simple. The more that goes in, the more that comes off - and the more gynaecological the presentation. And that's the routine all day long. The range of drinks? God knows, or cares. But clearly methods are in place to transfer substantial quantities of alcohol into the bloodstream of transfixed punters - be they nervy looking little clerks, local pimps or lost souls from Hades. The floor, we are told, was one of the last in London to be sawdusted. Now a carpet of fag ends cope with any spilled fluids. The Gents', it is said, was the inspiration for the surreal nightmare of the worst toilet in the world from the book and film of "Trainspotting". We didn't check. If you're into watching someone's daughter, someone's sister bump and grind for handfuls of cash to feed either her child or her habit, then you must live with that. But be ashamed. Be very ashamed.