2:35pm Friday 9th May 2008
By Emily Walker
TEN kerb crawlers an hour were trawling the streets of Broadgreen.
In an Advertiser investigation into the men who pay for sex, I spent two evenings on the corner of Manchester Road and Salisbury Street.
Our investigation took place last Friday night and on Wednesday, after making the neighbourhood police officers aware of what we were doing for safety reasons.
In just one hour on Friday 10 kerb crawlers made approaches to me.
On Wednesday, a man stopped his car next to where I stood on Salisbury Street, wound down his window and asked "do you want business?"
When I asked the chubby eastern European to repeat what he had said her asked again: "You want business? You got business?"
After I made it clear I was a reporter from the Advertiser and asked him to explain why he had stopped me he replied: "I'm just driving. I don't know why I stopped, I'm just driving."
For the first half an hour on Friday evening I stood on the street corner and got little more than dirty looks from passers by and parents ushering their children past me on the pavement.
But almost dead on 9pm the kerb crawlers started coming out of the woodwork.
The first driver to make his intention known was a white van driver.
The van slowed to walking pace as he passed my spot on the pavement and I was shocked to see that this man was not even slightly ashamed to be travelling in a vehicle with his company name branded down the side.
As I nervously checked my colleague, and security guard for the night, Jeremy, still had me in his sights, the van circled the block three or four times in the space of a couple of minutes.
Finally, the bespectacled driver in his 60s, with a beer belly and ruddy complexion, came to a stop in the middle of the road and beckoned to the next side street.
He then pulled up in the next road but, not wanting to stray from my safe spot, I stayed put.
When the van driver realised I was not playing along he returned to searching the streets for another girl passing me every few minutes and making hand signals.
Pretty soon I saw him pull up a few metres down the side street from me and, with a stomach-turning lurch, I saw another girl get into the front seat of his van.
Over the course of the next hour, this pattern of behaviour became very familiar.
The lone male drivers of a silver Mazda convertible, a dark blue car, a Posche and a shiny black pick-up circled the streets, crawling past me then pulling up in side streets waiting for me to approach their windows.
By 10pm there was a regular flow of cars circling my corner, trying to make eye contact and hand signals.
The Broadgreen police community support officers warned me that kerb crawlers are frequently getting out of their cars to avoid detection.
Men walking past made comments and gave me funny looks.
When a man with a greasy grey ponytail and wearing a sleeveless leather jacket rattled a handful of loose change at me I decided it was time to call it a night.
Over the course of both evenings in Salisbury Street one of the most shocking things was the reactions from ordinary people walking home or to the shops.
Dressed in jeans and a hoodie I probably looked less provocative than I would on a normal night out.
But everyone seemed to know why I was there and most averted their eyes as they walked past. Worst of all was when I started to see the pity in their eyes.
One man even tried to give me a reassuring little smile and, although I'm sure he meant well, it made me feel so much worse.
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