If, at the end of a day and a night of taking in the freak shows, fraudulent spiritual and scientific demonstrations, and eating lard pies laced with chunks of barbershop patrons, you ended up alive, albeit robbed of all your clothing, recovering from a surreptitious poisoning by a cunning boy who seduced you disguised as a girl, or vice-versa, who’s left you naked and missing a hand, an eye, and all your teeth, being picked at by geese at dawn in the fecal muck of the Thames at low tide, well, you considered yourself damn lucky, Sunshine.