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One day in 2004 I was heading up to Liverpool to visit some of that city’s few existing massage parlours and since I was now also listing notable independent escorts in my guidebooks, I felt it might be a suitable time to go and visit one of the city’s most notable independent working ladies, an attractive very energetic blonde by the name of Mandy. Based in Fazackerley, though she divided her time between Liverpool and periods working in King’s Cross, in London, she was one of the city’s most well-reviewed escorts, but she was often a bit difficult to get hold of and so far as I can tell has by now long ago called it a day.

However on this day, I got through to her, and when I identified myself, she seemed briefly gobsmacked, replying to my suggestion that we meet, by simply exclaiming “Oh my God! I’m talking to the author of the prostitutes’ bible.”

That was basically the extent of our conversation and bizarrely, although it had not occurred to me before then, though I had at that point brought out eight editions of my pioneering guidebook to the nations’ adult services, in particular to the nation’s massage parlours where a lot of such services could be found, while I was primarily aiming my guidebooks at the gentlemen who might use such establishments, I had also brought out a guide uniquely useful to the ladies who would be interested in working in them.

I had, without realising it, written “The Prostitutes’ Bible”.

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