A tour of the murderous path taken by Jack The Ripper, walking around the back streets of East London and retracing his legendary footsteps.
Because what doesn’t scream romance like the story of mutilated prostitutes.
“Laura, what shall I wear?”
“Where are you going?”
“Jack the Ripper Tour”
“Of course you are. Something warm.”
I set off and arrived in good time, then the panic set in (not first date nerves but my continual navigational struggle) I ran around, baffled (completely lost: WHERE IS EXIT 3?! Why is everything so hard.) and with no train attendants to hand I had to resort to messaging my date:
“Hey, I’m outside Exit 2 – I think they must’ve sent across the wrong instructions. There is no Exit 3.”
He replied in quick timing:
“I’m outside Exit 3.”
It was nearing 7:34 and I called my date:
“Calm down. Where are you? Hang on, stay there I think I see you.”
I looked up and saw a (very small) man on his phone walking across the street (oh God no).
I’d briefly met the male on Happn, he seemed polite and nice (totally not my type) but I hadn’t bothered to ask my usual questions regarding height – in this (desperate) day and age you can’t be picky (but on a walking tour where you will be both stood vertical for at least two hours – you fucking can.)
I ran back inside of the station (hid behind a large pillar) and called my housemate.
“MATE HE’S THE SMALLEST MAN ON EARTH – I CAN’T DO THIS”
“Debbie – don’t you dare run away, imagine if someone saw you and pelted”
“THAT HAPPENS MULTIPLE TIMES A DAY.”
“Get a grip and just be nice.”
Then to my utter astonishment (horror) walking towards me actually came a 6”2 (“Laura, I’ve got to go. I’ve made a terrible mistake”), handsome man (God).
I looked down at my own outfit, wishing I’d warn something less “warm”.
We made our way to meet the tour (20 minutes late) stopped off to pick up some refreshments (couple of tinnies)…
She began discussing his first brutal killing which everyone paid close attention to (I focused on trying to look attractive whilst snot froze falling out my nose) and then my date and I quizzed each other on what we’d learnt on the walk to each stop:
“After Jack murdered Mary Ann Nichols..”
By the time we were onto the third killing the conversation was dwindling (“Are you ok? – “I’m so cold. I can’t breathe”) but then:
“Is anyone a Harry Potter fan here?”
My date turned as I began to get excited (squealed).
After that devastating blow – I tried to engage with my date as the two hours drew to an end (keeping his eyes off girls dressed for drinking not sledging) and began showing off all the new knowledge we’d learnt from the tour (standing on any bollard yelling: “I’m at the edge of London City!” – “Debbie get down. She didn’t mean every bollard!”)
Once the tour came to an end we headed to a local pub (“Where do you wanna go?” – “Anywhere with heating”) and found a perfect spot (“You get the drinks. I’ll be sat in that fire.”) and got to know each other a little more. (I had three pints – took off my layers and released…)
When the pub called last orders, (and now that I’m a “professional” blogger) I requested my very detailed review process:
“So, what would you give this date out of 10?”
“Probably an 8 – but a kiss would push it up to a 10.”
“I think I could make it an 11…”
Cost: You can’t put a price on love (but if you did, around £10)
Dangerous Rating: Almost got frostbite and learnt I would definitely die if I became a prostitute: A solid 8/10.
Help find Jack here: www.thejacktherippertour.com