Dear Journal,

Today, I finally did it. And it was marvelously exhilarating.

Draped in my brown overcoat, I exited my flat and journeyed down to Whitechapel. I stopped at the tavern on Hanbury Street for a pint, to build the courage. Then continued my search.

Finally, I spotted a young woman, alone, dancing in the rain. Her umbrella bounced high above her head as she strolled the shop-strewn street, pausing occasionally to peer through the darkened store windows. They were all closed for the evening, leaving the streets vacant save for the young woman and I. Perfect.

As she frolicked towards me, I steadied my nerves. Calm down Jack, you’ll scare her off. She didn’t notice me until we were only a meter apart, and that’s when I sprung. Coat open, I fully exposed my frank and beans to her horrified screams. Then quickly ran through a back alley, back to my flat as fast as I could.

On page four of this morning’s paper, I cut out the very first of many articles. They even gave me a name: Jack the Stripper.