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March 29, 1677

Of Whores and Journalists

After I mentioned this week that the Crimson Unicorn received a write-up in The London Gazette which had quite a salutary effect on our little business, many of you readers have been clamouring for me to post the review itself on Peep This Diary, that you may read it for yourselves. Before I do so, I will take pains to remind you that this blog is not a democracy and that your pathetic, self-serving entreaties have about as much sway with me as do the political opinions of a leprous beggar (or a woman) with the King of England. However, the write-up was really quite something to behold, and it had been my intention to post it here even before I was so rudely enjoined to do so by individuals amongst my readership. If I may extend my earlier metaphor to elaborate this point—when the wishes of the common people mirror the edicts of the King, we may be sure that we are in a nation that is well governed or—more likely—well policed. This is the article I was referring to:

The Crimson Unicorn brothel in Southwark, long regarded as one of London’s most notorious dens of sin, has reached new depths of depravity in recent months due to a change in ownership. Sean Fagan (a degenerate Irishman with no family connexions) and Jack Shepherd (a controversial local tea merchant) have brought this house of ill repute into the public eye through a series of weekly events and promotions that have evidently struck a chord with the baser instincts of many of London’s dissolute but well-funded men of leisure. 

The Unicorn’s most popular attraction, “Naughty Nurses,” is offered at a discounted rate to regular customers, and has, according to a representative of the establishment “been quite the moneymaker.” There can be little doubt that this weekly occurrence is the most vile, sinful, rotten abomination ever to defile the citizens of our once proud city. Naughty Nurses takes place on Wednesdays at the Crimson Unicorn on Southwark Street. Nurse costumes are supplied by proprietor.


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Lady Ulverstone of Chawkin

I should like to post a comment expressing my horror at the recent report in the Gazette of your scandalous goings on. I cannot bring myself to name them more specifically. The Earl is seriously displeased. The gossip and tittering among our social circle have become insupportable, and I have been cut by at least one lady of my acquaintance. A recent invitation to a masque at Court was withdrawn with no reason given (though I must say that this smacks of hypocrisy given rumours of the goings on of Lady C...and a certain theatrical seller of oranges). I note that your friends are concerned about the yellow bile. As am I. I would like to think that it is this disease that is responsible for your reprehensible goings on, rather than an irredeemably profligate and malevolent disposition, and to that end suggest that you be cut for the stone, (or cut for something else), or at any rate bled by a great many leeches. I am mortified, mortified.

Samuel Folkstone

Would it be possible to post the entry charge? Or is it one of those "pay as you go" establishments?


I have it on good authority that you water down your beer, the ladies have the pox, and you are a Godless Heathen. Also, there is no difference between "Naughty Nurses" and "Saucy Scullery Maids" except for a change of hats. I feel cheated.

You also deliberately miscounted your strokes on Hole 5 this afternoon and flew into an impertinent rage.

Daniel Barnstalbe

Is Odyllia (sp?) still working there?

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