IN OLDE LONDON TOWN, THE FOG SWIRLS AROUND A GROUP OF WELL-DRESSED GENTS AS THEY MAKE THEIR WAY ALONG A DARK LAMP-LIT BACK STREET.
AS THEY ROUND A CORNER, THEY (AND WE) SEE A YOUNG PROSTITUTE LEANING AGAINST A WALL.
SHE IS YOUNG, SHOCKINGLY YOUNG.
THE MEN APPROACH HER WITH CAUTION, SEEMINGLY WORRIED THAT ANY UNDUE HASTE MAY CAUSE HER TO BOLT.
MAN: Tell me, my dear. Are you willing to entertain me and my friends for . . . shall we say . . . a sovereign?
THE GIRL HOLDS OUT HER HAND SLOWLY AND THE MAN DROPS A SHINY GOLD COIN INTO IT
WITHOUT TAKING HER EYES OFF THE MEN, THE GIRLS REACHES INTO A BAG BEHIND HER AND PRODUCES A BANJO.
AFTER A FEW SECONDS TUNING UP, SHE SINGS:
GIRL (SINGING):
I'm a pre-pubescent prostitute
I make a good few bob.
I can work four weeks in every month
Cos I'm never on the blob.
All the old girls envy me
My freedom and my youth,
Call me a little bleeder
But that's some way from the truth.
My dad goes mad and says I'm bad,
A menace to the nation,
But don't distress, I'll f*** much less
When I start menstruation.
Prozzie! Yes, I'm a prozzie.
I'm still in Primary School.
Prozzie! Yes, I'm a prozzie
It's cool. It's oh, so cool!
I'm down to Earth, I tell the truth,
I haven't got two faces.
Strip me bare and you will find
No pubic 'airs or graces.
Prozzie! Yes, I'm a prozzie.
And I'm still in Primary School.
Prozzie! Yes, I'm a prozzie
No stranger to a too-oo-ool.
No stranger to a tool.
THE MEN BURST INTO RAPTUROUS APPLAUSE.
ENDS.