In London no one can hear you scream.
You can scream all you like, princess.
Scream up Fleet Street, scream down Holloway Road, scream all over Clapham Common, scream until your throat bleeds at the bottom of Whitehall, scream in Nelson’s face, scream along Blackfriars Bridge.
By the time you’ve found somebody who’s ready to listen you’ll have run out of scream.
I always thought that my screams were being ignored.
Now I know that, really, everyone in this city is so deafened by their own screams that they can’t possibly hear mine.