Those cleaning up Soho say they object to its sleaze. But isn’t that the whole point of the area I call home?

You’ve read about the sack of Rome, the siege of Carthage, the looting of Persepolis – well, the b*stards are it again. This time they’re plundering Soho. Sidle down Walker’s Court, that suppurating alleyway of sexual half-promises that connects Peter Street and Brewer Street, and you sense the despondency. Sex shops have closed; sex clubs are semi-shuttered; sex itself seems to have given up the ghost and gone home to play on its computer.