I'm still working in London, and at this very moment I am sitting on the edge of the worlds anus, looking into the abyss that is Leicester Square. I can smell the oily fug eminating from the plethora of fast food joints, burger bars, fried chicken emporiums and pizza palaces.
Wherever I look I can see shops selling London themed tat, Olympic tat and any old tat. Theatre ticket touts, charity street muggers, street artists and talentless entertainers. High rent pubs with high rent prices selling low rent beer and food.
Yet strangely, the place is packed with tourists and people of every creed, colour and country. They spend their cash like water. They wander, cow like, peering into windows, admiring the grotty scene spread out before them.
Dominating the views are the cinemas, the casinos and bizarrely, a large building, five or six stories high, dedicated to a sweet. It's called M and M World. People take photos of it like its a cultural icon.
I sit here and watch as the masses pass by leaving their money behind, and wonder just how Leicester Square has got away with it for so long.
Paul Martin is @ukcameraman on Twitter