From rags to bitches: posters go up all over London with the slogan: "Buy her a cider and get inside ‘er." A lady AND a tramp: the club's "Tasty Tits" Tracey.   Writer: Graham Wolf managed to get down and dirty for only £2.30 with the street girls named Desire.

Spearmint Wino club is a down-and-out success.

They're youngish, they're coke-powered and they wield goldcards. They're the top-notch stock-broken men who run our city, and they're growing tired and sick of the current executive relief arrangement in this trendy big London, it appears Sir. Yes it do.

It's low rent. It's NO rent. It's dirty in every kind of way. It's Spearmint Wino and it's coming to a high street, from a high street, near you soon.

No longer content to eyeball the buffed boobs and bums of bouncy, blonde, bronzed and beautiful babes in backroom bars and bawdy bordello bonk buildings, these vapid yet thrusting examples of misplaced manhood are turning their attentions to the increasingly common delights of delightful commoners. Yes, the runaway beauties and homeless chicks who have hitherto simply decorated our street corners and doorways are now parading their unique brand of "homeless chic" on London's strippy stages.

The very first Spearmint Wino opened to the public last week on the West End's very own Tottenham Court Road, itself no stranger to the wonders of vagrancy or the allure of the cardboard box. Offering prospective punters the tantalising opportunity to "make a donation" or to have "a big issue" with its girls, the club's blurb promises a bevy of "rag-clad, glad but borderline mad" stunners who'll do "anything for a quid and a bit more than that for a bit more than that".

Utterly Gutterly

The opening night was a huge success. As Tracey from King’s Cross (pictured) and other willing wastrels flaunted their shoddy bodies to the baying crowd, yet more lady tramps worked the floor demanding spare change or White Lightning cocktails in return for a humble fumble in their soggy sleeping bags.

Golden hearted punters willing to part with enough of their loose coppers were escorted upstairs to Pariah-dise Island, a dimly lit, cavernous car park-themed enclosure with rows of exclusive cardboard boxes where the evening continued with a spot of private “vagabondage”.

In short the night was a phenomenal success. If you're planning to go my advice is to take several bottles of K and at least one tube of KY. Spearmint Wino has arrived, and the two meanings of the word tramp have never been so close.