Paul Raymond's former home (15th November 1925 to 2nd March 2008)

As a boy who attended an all-boys secondary school I knew Paul Raymond’s pornographic magazines quite well - Men Only, Razzle, Escort, Club. The only naked women I saw had staples through their bellies (nothing's changed.) In the 1980's these magazines were prized currency at school. On the cover was printed “Published By Paul Raymond” but I didn't see it - too busy gawping at the slightly hidden jugs of a half-stripped chauffeur lady reclining on the back seat of a Rolls Royce Silver Shadow. Here I am outside the apartment block just near The Ritz Hotel in London where the porn king lived in seclusion.

Though Paul (real name Geoffrey Anthony Quinn) was the child of a prime middle-class family and educated by Irish priests he later gained the mantle of King Of Soho or Soho Sex King. Though he brought pornographic magazines to the high streets (and millions of schoolboys) he preferred to be known as a publisher, club owner and property developer. Seeing him interviewed he’s so restrained you’d mistake him for a bank manager.

He opened the UK's first strip club, buying large parcels of land around Soho. He then launched Paul Raymond Publications which pumped out soft-porn magazines. One the most popular models was Fiona Richmond (I knew her well even if only on paper) and she became Paul's lover despite his wife and two children. His empire grew when he invested millions into property through another company Soho Estates. It's thought he owned 400 properties across London.

In later life he started handing the reins of the empire to his beloved daughter Debbie but she died of a heroin over-dose in her mid-thirties. This broke his spirit and he became a recluse. He withdrew in his apartment of multi-millionaire splendour and was rarely seen again. He spent most of the day in bed drinking brandy, watching television and reading newspapers. He died in a private hospital aged 82 of prostate cancer and respiratory problems leaving an estate worth about £650 million - £2.5 billion depending on various publications. His granddaughters Fawn and India James inherited most of this though they'll probably marry unsuitable men who will take mountains of money in the divorces. A film was made of his life: The Look Of Love. Steve Coogan plays the publisher pretty accurately. A decent biography called Members Only sates the appetite of geeks like me.

While in London I strolled up to The Ritz hotel and then down to Arlington House where Paul lived. It's a quiet street which is rare what with the city's constant tinnitus of traffic. No 64 was a private push-button kingdom. The roof slid aside to reveal bare sky. None of this would bring Debbie back.

There’s isn’t a plaque on the wall (don't English Heritage honour pornographers?) but he was an exemplary businessman and gave enjoyment to millions of boys (and millions in tax to the Inland Revenue.) His magazines had a policy of nudity than crudity so perhaps the Christian brothers who schooled him instilled in him some codes of conduct.

Occupiers of Arlington House probably buy apartment for the low noise levels (dead-end street), access to Green Park and views of the jagged London skyline. Cheap apartments - £2.5 million. The dearer ones - £7 million. Paul owned about 87 acres of Soho so it was a surprise to find he hadn't lived there. There's no grave to visit and pay thanks for all those wonderful porn magazines as he left a wish to be cremated (was probably burned at Golders Green Crematorium as his daughter was.) There was a Catholic service at Wandsworth Cemetery.

While in London in 2019 I passed Paul's famous Raymond's Revuebar in Soho (a striptease club). For many years it was the only place in Britain to offer full-frontal, on-stage nudity. I took a few photos as I knew that one day it'd transmute into something else (nowadays it's a nightclub.)

Paul spent some of his childhood two hundred miles north of London in Glossop in Derbyshire. It's close to home so I went to have a look (it's now a vets practice.) I wondered which was his bedroom and if - while living in this green High Peak village - he had any idea of his adult destination. I did a salute and left.