We moved back to Birmingham into a large Victorian house on a busy road.

Our new next door neighbour wore a long dark beard and kept his hair tied up in a black turban. He told us that he was Korean, and that he had inherited the crumbling house from his father. He didn’t know why his front garden was littered with potatoes, but I was welcome to gather them up for cooking any time. What a friendly chap!

Our impressions of our neighbour changed on the day that he gave us a guided tour of his premises. As he led us up through the house we were appalled to discover that each floor was filthier than the last. How could anyone live like this?

At the very top we emerged into the light onto a roof-top car park next to a wide canal filled with boats and cranes. In a small office our host explained that this was where he ran his car park space rental business, amongst “other things”. From the way that he dealt with my questioning – including a threatened physical attack – we were highly suspicious that these “other things” (including the potatoes) were not legal. What kind of neighbourhood had we joined?!