The Fruit and Veg Market: Inside New Spitalfields The London Markets

This programme contains strong language.

As another day draws to a close in the capital, the night-time world

of London's wholesale food markets is beginning to stir.

Between them, these London institutions have been

supplying the city with fish, meat, fruit and vegetables for centuries

and are a rich seam in London's history.

But how relevant are they today?

And what will their role be in the London of tomorrow?

This programme contains strong language

New Spitalfields, in the East End of London,

is Britain's largest wholesale food market.

At midnight, 150 traders gather to buy and sell

over 4,000 tonnes of fresh produce every night.

It literally has been growing until four or five o'clock in the afternoon

and it will be served up for breakfast in a West End restaurant.

That's how efficient we can be in this business.

It's miles more efficient than...

what's that word we don't use in the trade?

Right, supermarkets! We don't use that word!

You'll find every type of fruit and veg under the sun here,

produce unheard of in Britain a generation ago.

That's a pepino melon, you know, grows on a tree in fact.

And people from the far corners of the world looking for a better life.

-Listen, you're not illegal are you?

-No, I'm not illegal. I'm British!

-Oh, good. Are you?

-I am British!

-Show me your passport!

Passport? Show him, then!

When Spitalfields left its original site

in the heart of London 21 years ago, the old market changed forever.

New traders moved in

to serve the growing immigrant communities of the East End,

people for whom food had a deeper meaning.

In this changing world, the traditional greengrocer

is struggling to survive.

Dying industry.

Greengrocers. People who used to sell fruit and veg. No more! Finished.

-Morning, Harry.

-Hi.

-How are you?

-Good, thank you.

-You been up all night counting your money?

-No, no, not at all.

-You haven't got any?

-No, we're in trouble!

THEY LAUGH

Three quarters of a billion pounds changes hands here every year.

But only those that are willing to adapt will survive.

Peter Thomas has worked in Spitalfields

since he was 15 years old.

As a boy, he'd sit alongside his dad in their lorry

and soak up the tricks of the trade.

Nearly 40 years later, he's one of the market's most powerful buyers.

The word is hands on. Hands on.

Having your hands wrapped right round your business like an octopus.

That's the secret of success.

Having your hands wrapped right round the business.

Particularly now, when things are so hard.

You can't afford to leave a stone unturned.

All right, Dave?

Every night, Peter will spend more than £25,000 here,

buying for everyone from Her Majesty's Prisons,

to schools and hospitals,

as well as many of London's finest restaurants.

In the run up to Christmas,

Peter is under pressure to hunt down an important order.

Do you sell long aubergines? Japanese aubergines?

-No.

-No? All right. Lovely, boy. Thank you.

-Long aubergine?

-No.

They call them Japanese aubergines.

It's for a special dish.

I might have to send normal ones out, which I don't really like doing.

-Morning. You got long aubergine?

-No.

-No?

-You got long aubergine?

-No.

No? Nothing? I hate not getting stuff. Drives me mad.

The customer wants it.

I must fulfil that order, otherwise it'll drive me mad, if I don't.

Did your dad do this, Peter?

No! All he ever done was sold potatoes, my dad.

If somebody were to ask him for a box of cabbage, well,

he'd think it was the end of the world!

That's what we done, we only sold potatoes,

to fish and chip shops and pie shops.

I mean, there come to a stage with me dad where I said,

"Dad, we can't carry on doing this,

"we've got to change the situation,

"the catering business is far bigger and greater than what we're doing."

You know, there's a big world out there.

Peter and his dad started with one wheelbarrow

to deliver their potatoes.

He now has a fleet of 38 lorries.

I went to a school called Fairmead.

And it was quite a notorious, tough school, you know?

And unfortunately I couldn't keep out of trouble.

I was quite a good footballer and a good sportsman and all that.

Academically, I weren't that successful. I couldn't concentrate.

So, consequently, they told me they didn't require my services,

slightly earlier than perhaps normal kids there.

And they did say to me, my headmaster didn't like me one bit,

he said, "Son, you'll be in the gutter all your life."

And it's probably the best thing that anyone's ever said to me.

He went on to grow his family business

into a multi-million pound fruit and veg empire.

Well, you know what I mean by Japanese, don't you?

Listen, I don't care, I don't want no excuses. You've got to get it.

It's for a special customer

and it's going to drive me fucking mad if you don't get it.

I don't care if you have got to drive a half hour,

go and drive a half hour and go and get it.

Yes, now.

Bit like fighting a war, really, all good leaders are up there

at the front with their soldiers, you know what I mean?

Got to be up there to lead the thing.

All the Nelsons, all the Wellingtons. They was all there, mate.

Peter is moving with the times.

But there are others in the market who are finding it harder

to adapt to London's changing tastes.

Bill's family business

has been selling traditional British vegetables,

like turnips and celery, since the 1860s.

But these days, business isn't booming.

-You used to sell a lot of celery?

-Yes! Celery, spring onions, radishes.

-Lettuce.

-I haven't seen much celery in the market, actually.

No, nobody has it now. Only supermarkets.

It's an old name, as well, Hassy, you don't see Hassy celery anymore.

-Now nobody wants it.

-Really?

-Those were the days.

It's just not fashionable anymore?

So many things are just not fashionable anymore,

because girls think that,

young wives think that everything grows on trees wrapped in cellophane!

Yeah.

Back in Bill's salad days the world was a much simpler place.

Vegetables were grown in British soil and delivered to the market.

Bill's family would then sell them on to local greengrocers,

whose customers were traditionally British housewives.

This business had hardly changed

since the market first opened in 1638.

But in the last 20 years, the rise of the supermarkets

has put many greengrocers out of business

and wholesalers like Bill have seen their livelihoods wither away.

Lovely, mate. Thanks again.

Cheers, mate. See you later.

Thanks, mate.

See, I just sold a banana, it's made me a pound.

But it isn't enough profit.

Everybody's cutting each other's throat.

Emin was born and raised in the East End to Turkish Cypriot parents.

What's Red making over there?

He left school at 16 to join the fruit and veg trade

and now runs his own stall.

They're crap. Absolutely soft as anything.

But these days, he's finding the game harder than ever.

Beautiful cucumbers. I bought these two days ago, they cost me £3.80.

-A box?

-Yeah, I made four and a half quid. Which is 70p a box.

You know, mushrooms and all, look. Mushrooms here, it's ludicrous.

I'll make 50p to 20p a box.

11 mushrooms.

It's a very hard life. It ain't easy.

I mean, I wouldn't let my son come into this business.

Three mushrooms a pound.

£4.80.

It's all built on trust,

but I'd rather serve the little man than the big boys.

You know what I mean?

The big boys come in here, I won't entertain them.

I won't.

-I don't want to sell to them.

-Big boys, meaning?

Marco! Uno.

Hello, mate. What's up?

For some traders, the sight of Peter approaching their stand

is cause for alarm.

He's a master in the art of haggling

and deploys every trick in the book to get the best price.

Never rush onto a firm, because he thinks you'll get a bit excited.

You see, just stroll on.

Try that.

Eh? What's this? He puts potatoes in the microwave. Keeps your hands warm.

We warm up potatoes and put them in our pocket.

Used to do it with coal years ago.

Let me have another look at that.

How's that carpet and half of them rhythm and blues?

What's a carpet?

Three pounds.

Carpet is three, because years ago, if you got three years in prison,

if you got put in prison for three years or more,

you'd get a piece of carpet in your cell, so that's three.

Double carpet is 33.

Talking about a carpet, I've got a carpet for a pallet of that.

-Sorry?

-I've got a carpet for a pallet of that.

-Have you?

-Right, have a think about it.

Listen, I tell you something, if it had been a different mark...

-Yeah?

-I'd have given you a bit more money.

-But...

-I've got it marked.

-Have you?

-Four-and-a-half quid.

Right. See if you can charge me on both for a pallet.

No, I've got £5, £5.50, four-and-a-half quid.

-Or a carpet for a pallet of that.

-No. Four.

-Backwards.

-I'm going to have a look at them...

-Four spelt backwards? R-O...

-Have a think about that.

-R-U-O-F.

-Yeah. Find me a dollar there?

No, honestly, seriously, they're £5, four-and-a-half quid for you.

Listen, listen.

I don't want you to be honest and don't be serious.

To be truthful, I'm rather busy. I could do with you...

Fucking off? Just find me a dollar and I will.

No, honestly, they're four-and-a-half quid, that is it.

I just want a little bit out of that.

It just isn't there. It's £5, plus. No. I can't do it. I can't do it.

-You can do it.

-I can't do it. Hello, pomegranates come to £7.80.

Just a tad too much money for me. Just a tad.

Listen. Honestly. They're £5, four-and-a-half to you if you like,

-but if you don't want them...

-I do want them.

I wouldn't be trying to buy them otherwise, would I?

-Four-and-a-half quid.

-Just 20 pence. Just 20 pence.

You'll get it all back next week.

I've been selling to you for 30 years

and I've not got it back once. They're four-and-a-half quid.

Give us two bob for a bit of luck, there you are.

You know how much luck you've got,

you've got more than your fair share of luck already.

'Whatever the price I give,

'he will try negotiate the best bargains.'

And when you're buying 20 boxes it's nothing,

it's two quid you're arguing about.

But when you're buying two pallets of tomatoes,

it's £30 you're arguing about, if it's 10p, it's £30 difference.

So if you do that all day long, £30 here, £30 there,

in a day you can get, maybe, £100 or £200 pounds back on your buying.

And if you do that through the course, that's £1,000 a week.

Carpet a pallet, carpet a pallet of 'berg.

and I'll give you your money for your tomatoes.

-75, 'berg.

-Yeah. And a carpet a pallet, a pallet of that black box.

-No, 75 'berg at a carpet.

-At a carpet, yeah.

-And 140 tomatoes at four-and-a-half quid.

-Thank you very much.

-Thank you.

-All right. That was a nice trade, wasn't it?

-Lovely.

Didn't take long, did it? Done.

That's the quickest £2,000 ever been spent.

Oi, you slippery...!

-Who?

-Yeah, you, bucking up, give us that ticket again.

-I say!

-You've got television evidence of how much he paid for that.

-I say!

-£4.50!

-What have I put down?

-£4.40, you slippery bastard!

I can't believe I've done that for a minute!

Do you know, you've got me at a terribly embarrassing situation.

-Is that right?

-I've got the wrong trousers on!

-You dodgy bastard!

-I say! Let me just have a look at this.

I can't believe what you said. Well, I...

See, that says £4.40,

and you saw about 20 minutes ago how he put £4.50.

Now you know how he gets his money, he's a dodgy bastard.

I say! I just can't believe that for a second. Whatever made me do that?

I must have had a lapse of memory of some sort.

Habits of a lifetime are hard to break.

It's no good, mate!

You're a right slippery... Slipperier than a can of eels!

I don't know what come over me!

Two million pounds changes hands here every night.

Everybody is looking for a way to keep one step ahead of the game.

Brian runs a fruit stall with his family in the East End of London,

and margins are tight.

I mean fruit is, well, not a luxury as such,

but it's, it's something that people can do without, you know what I mean?

Vegetables maybe they need, but things like grapes and plums

and nectarines, it's not something that they've got to have,

do you know what I mean?

It's sort of a semi-luxury, isn't it?

Something they do do without.

Nothing you can do about it.

With express supermarkets popping up on many street corners,

Brian's traditional customers have deserted him.

I mean I can't understand why people buy fresh produce in supermarkets.

They don't even know what they're paying for this stuff.

Half of them haven't got a clue what they're paying for this stuff!

They just pick it up, pay for it, and that's it.

I mean my wife, the other day, bought a bunch of spring onions in Tesco,

it was 74 pence, I went crazy!

I said, "We sell five bunches for a pound.

"You're giving 74 pence for a bunch of spring onions."

SIRENS

There you are, fuck! Oh, fuck!

I am bang in trouble.

I am bang in trouble.

-Hello, mate.

-Is this your vehicle?

Yeah, it's my vehicle. Yeah.

That comes off, road death.

That's it, I'm fucked, I can't go to work today now.

I got nicked this morning.

-For what?

-Overloaded.

-How much?

-A ton.

A ton? £1,000?

A £1,000 fine for overloading his van

means that Brian and his family will be working all week for nothing.

Never mind. If my poor father goes skint getting fined

I can always get a driving job as a forklift driver!

My old man goes to work at 12 o'clock at night, 70 years of age.

He's been doing it since he was 15.

He's what you call a proper grafter.

Have you left the door open, lady?

Have you left the door open? Huh?

Brian and his son Gary have been working their stall

in Upton Park, East London, for over 40 years.

This is old style, an old fashioned way of shopping.

You've got to have a sense of humour.

That's OK, darling, I know you've given me £1.

You are 50p in credit

and next time you come you'll have 50p, no problem.

No, let me have 50p!

-Thank you, darling.

-Thank you.

-Upton Park, international!

These days, it's not just apples and pears they sell.

Their customers expect more exotic fare.

It's called dragon. It's very sweet, it's dragonfruit. It's like my wife.

It don't look very pretty, but inside it's very sweet.

Take it and try it, if you like it you can come back.

You don't get that in Tesco, Sainsbury's, do you? Asda. Huh?

You don't get customer service like that, do you? You only get points.

Good luck.

Hold up, Anglo Saxons!

Listen, I only served four last year, you're the first Anglo Saxons,

first English people I've seen in my market this year.

Hello, pleased to meet you.

-Oh, this year, really?

-This year. I know it's only...

-Born and bred in Bow. Bow.

-Bow.

SHOUTS IN URDU

SHOUTING IN URDU

That's a bit of Urdu.

SHOUTS IN URDU

I think we've had time to adapt.

I think we've had 50, 60 years. Listen, even before that,

if you can look back 150 years ago,

we had the Jewish at Whitechapel coming in, doing all the,

all the textiles, the materials, and all that sort of thing.

You've got Bengalis up Brick Lane,

we've had the Pakistanis from the late '70s,

we've had Eastern Europeans, Kosovans, and blah, blah, blah.

It doesn't matter where you go in the world, what country you're in,

you do as the Romans do, when in Rome, do as the Romans do.

And if they come to East London it doesn't take long for them to...

obviously they keep their own identity and their own culture,

but also they take a bit of ours and we take a bit of theirs,

and we all live together and it works.

SHOUTS IN URDU

Pound of old, pound of old.

London is a city built on immigration.

For centuries, the East End has been the first port of call

for many migrants.

Dalston bag! Dalston bag! Dalston! Dalston! Dalston! Dalston!

Spitalfields Market is a magnet for new arrivals

looking for work and cheap food.

The remarkable diversity of London's population

is mirrored in the market, its traders and the produce on sale.

That's a kiwano, from New Zealand.

That's a rambutan.

Yeah, that's a mangosteen.

A salak, or snakeskin.

Don't really know what people do with them to be honest with you.

That's a grenadino.

Years ago, they used to call it "queer gear",

but it's not any more.

It's everyday produce now, all this stuff. Everyday.

When I started, 15 years before,

there were only a few, I think 15 or 16 Asian people there.

Now I think it's the other way around!

English people, there are 15, 16, maybe 20.

And the rest of the whole market is occupied by Asian people.

THEY SPEAK JAMAICAN

'I've never had a run-in with them,

'but I think that perhaps I'm just chicken, scared!'

HE LAUGHS

One of the new kings of Spitalfields is Ali Matur.

Ali is a Kurdish immigrant who arrived 20 years ago,

just as the market moved further east.

This is from Holland. From Egypt. From Spain. From Turkey.

And from Israel. South Africa.

Overall we do import from 40 different countries.

A big selection.

I supply all the big hotels. The Hiltons, Sheratons or whatever.

And I've got customers supplying Buckingham Palace.

We do our best.

I've done it. Anyone can do it.

This is a fantastic country.

I think it's fantastic.

Ali's a good man.

Anyone can be good. Isn't it, really?

It doesn't mean my customers are not going to pay me, I'll kill them!

Ever since the arrival of airfreight in the 20th century,

wholesalers like Ali import produce from every corner of the world.

But Spitalfields was once a humble farmers' market,

where the produce of local growers was sold.

What's that, power steering?

In our new, globalised world, Herman is a throwback.

He still grows and supplies the market with the finest parsley,

mint and courgettes money can buy.

This is a lovely bit of English parsley here. Given by Mr Herman.

I don't like it. I like Italian ones.

-I tell you what's making money now - courgettes.

-Yeah.

After delivering his parsley,

Herman has strict instructions from his wife to do her shopping.

Every week he faces new challenges finding her exotic ingredients.

Have you got lemongrass? Yeah.

Lemon grassy.

Leeks from Holland.

Have you got any galangal? No galangal?

Never ending in here! Always something.

West Indian,

Chinese, Kurds, Turks.

Ordinary Indians.

Bangladeshis and Pakistanis.

They've all got their little ways.

Two of these.

'You've got the Chinese there,

'so that they class themselves as a superior race, you know,

'you don't tell them what to do.

'Otherwise they'll let you wait till next year!'

HE LAUGHS

Tell my boy how many you need.

But that's the way of their culture, isn't it? That's the way they do it.

I'm a born German.

I had a shit time as a child over there.

I was only in the Hitler Youth for two years.

In Nazi Germany you simply had to follow those rules.

Heil Hitler,

every damn move you make.

Herman ran away from the Hitler Youth

and found his way to England,

where he volunteered for the British army.

After the war, he built his farm in Essex

and helped Britain to overcome her food shortage.

He's supplied Spitalfields for over 50 years.

But recently found it hard running the farm on his own.

Then Herman met Patty, a migrant farmer

from the paddy fields of Thailand, who was hunting for work.

You used to work on a rice farm?

Yeah. Yeah. In Thailand. I come from farm life.

-Farm life, anyway?

-Yeah. Yeah, really hard work.

Brought up like that, right from the word go, they had to work.

My mum and my dad got 13 children.

-13?

-Yeah.

-Wow.

-I am number 12!

SHE LAUGHS

So you know.

Whoa! You're doing a good job, girl!

Thank you, darling.

HERMAN LAUGHS

I'm nearly 80, so there isn't a lot of energy left there.

If you want to survive you've got to hold out your hand in friendship

and have a caring attitude towards everybody.

Because you depend on them and they depend on you.

Herman married Patty five years ago and after this parsley season

they plan to leave England and grow bananas in Thailand.

The market is a man's world.

But there are a few young women

who are braving Spitalfields every night to serve tea.

Lucy is the market's newest arrival.

She left her home in Romania to find work in London.

Excuse me? Hello?

Come on, baby, come on! Yeah, who's a pussy?

Come on!

Yeah, they get abused here. I mean, all of them get abused.

Especially on the Kurdish firms, they get mobbed. Yeah.

Especially by him. He don't leave them alone.

I can't, I don't, I've got my self-respect.

I love my wife, I love my children,

I don't hanky panky or nothing like that, you know?

It's not for me. I'm too old, anyway.

I learn how in what glass how many sugar.

If it's strong or light or normal tea.

Excuse me! Excuse me!

-Is this my tea?

-Yeah, this is your tea.

-Thank you very much darling, yeah?

-You're welcome.

Drink, one tea with two sugars.

I stay here 12 hour now, because I need money.

And then home, eat, do shower and sleep.

And my life is in market.

Yes, my life, it's in market.

And I miss my mother very much.

Sugar, is that?

Oh, I forgot two sugars. OK, I come.

Spitalfields opens its giant doors

to anyone willing to put in the hours.

But working every hour through the long nights

is a challenge to even the most determined.

It sometimes can be very, very hard.

But that's part of the game.

I enjoy it.

'But I don't want my kids to come into the industry.

'No, no.

'It doesn't matter how much money you're earning here,

'you're not going to enjoy it.

'You've got to keep your eye on it all the time. Stressful.'

So it is not an easy, easy lifestyle.

But I didn't come from the easy life anyway.

I come from the rough life.

Two of my cousins have been killed by the Turkish army.

My sister's been in prison for 11 months.

There was torturing on her.

It doesn't matter what the...

Even in the worst, worst scenario,

you've got to just...

try to fix as much as you can, to change as much as you can.

So...

But now we are selling tomatoes here. Huh?

When I first came here, about 16 years ago,

I had a very small stand and I had four, five pallets of lemons to sell.

I think last year we done about, between 18 and 20 million last year.

SINGING IN KURDISH

Many of the new traders in the market have a story to tell

and countries they cannot return to because of their religious beliefs.

From the 19th century,

tens of thousands of Jews have fled persecution in Eastern Europe

and arrived at London's docks.

Many found a home in the East End

and became regular customers in Spitalfields.

-They're £10.80. £9.60 to you.

-Huh?

-£9.60 to you.

-Yes. Yes.

-Yeah.

£8.50. £8.50 for fives.

14!

What's the matter with you?

You're getting hard of hearing, you are! Eh?

THEY LAUGH

He's a lovely man, aren't you?

-All the best to you.

-Isn't he?

-How many years we know each other?

Oh, too many years. I knew you when you didn't shave!

HE LAUGHS

He's a good old man, I've known him donkey's years,

from the old market, yeah.

What's his story?

Mr Khan, he doesn't talk about it very much,

but I know that he was a Holocaust survivor.

He was obviously a very young man then.

Joseph also survived the Second World War.

-Give me this.

-You want them ones?

-I want them ones, yes.

He's been buying from Spitalfields for more than 40 years now.

Leeks? No. Oversold sold leeks today.

Pomegranates, three pounds?

He runs a small grocery shop in North London

where he serves the local Hasidic community.

Every day Joseph consults the Torah

to help guide him in life and business.

We've lived according to this book for thousands of years.

We lost lives, for the sake of this book.

I hope that we get some. Yes.

Joseph must obey a set of strict dietary laws

when buying and selling fruit and vegetables.

SPEAKING IN HEBREW

We are not allowed to eat certain creatures. Insects.

Or flies or worms. Snakes.

It's bad, can't, it's not allowed.

It's against the law.

So certain produces which are infested, like greens,

certain lettuce, broccoli...

..cauliflower, pineapples, same thing.

Sometimes we have to check plums,

cut them in half and check that inside, around the pips,

there's not any creatures.

We have to check.

Thank God that he's given the light

and gives you eyes to see.

Two, two lemons.

Two lemons, and seven tomatoes.

Let me just double check that, you went without me checking yesterday.

Check, you check it.

I will fucking check it, I don't trust the Italians.

The market is a broad church

with many creeds and cultures tightly packed beneath its roof.

But there's not much that's sacred here.

-The best religion in the world is ours.

-Roman Catholics!

-You're poofs, all your priests are poofs!

-Do whatever you want.

-Doing the young boys, aren't they?

-Do whatever you want.

-How many priests are straight?

-Yeah.

They do young boys, cost you a fortune!

I don't like Turks, I don't be friends with Turks.

I don't know, there's something I don't like about them.

-He loves me really, he loves me, loves me.

-No.

We've been good friends for 30 years, I've been to his house,

-I've used his toilet. In the shed.

-In the shed!

In the shed. Never in the house, because they're dirty.

He's a loyal customer, don't get me wrong,

he comes here every day and he'll buy something.

But if I'm too dear, he'll go somewhere else.

Even for 20 pence, he'll go for somewhere else.

I'm sure they're Jews, not Roman Catholics.

All these people, all they're interested in is your money.

Like thousands of Sikhs living in Britain,

Karpal's family escaped from India

during the violent partition of Pakistan in 1947.

He was born in the East End, and from an early age,

Karpal's father encouraged him to be a model citizen.

His first job, as a paperboy to the Kray brothers,

wasn't quite what his father had in mind.

The Krays were, in those days, in the Blind Beggar, they were.

And we used to deliver to the Blind Beggar,

where the Krays used to actually go in that pub.

We used to give the paper to them.

Never asked for the money from them, because we knew who they were.

Give me one box of aubergine.

These days, Karpal helps out at his local temple

by securing the best deals here with donations.

Up to 1,000 homeless people will be arriving at his temple tonight

hoping to be fed.

These days, too many people are starving now.

How much is saag?

How much for beans? Huh?

Ooh! Bit high, innit?

-How much are your bananas, mate?

-They're plantain.

-I'll have three.

-Huh?

-Have you got bananas?

-Nah, sorry.

-Oh, OK.

I just want to check how much he's got cauliflower for.

-Huh?

-He's buying for the temple.

-Oh, is he?

-Yeah.

If they've got to have cauliflower, they've got to have cauliflower.

They'll have to put their hand in their pocket and pay for it, end of.

At the end of the day, this food, what we're buying today,

we buy all the time.

It's not just today. We'll buy and give it to the temple.

What it is, you find people, there's no work,

they're hungry and they're homeless,

but let them come to the temple, they can eat, and that's it.

There's no jobs about. People are going to starve.

You know what I mean? Homeless people.

They're the people you've got to feed.

I think we'll go to the next one up, yeah?

Right, give us one cauliflower.

A banana?

Large one's £17.50 and the twos here, seven quid, yeah?

-These ones?

-Seven quid.

-Seven quid?

-Yeah.

It's a pack of bananas, like, you know what I mean?

You ain't going to get it any cheaper than that nowhere.

Everybody knows that Cockney accent from fucking miles away.

Fucking hell, he's the only one who speaks Cockney, I think!

How much are bananas, mate?

We're Muslims here, my friend, we don't care about the temple.

Sorry, that's eight pound now, that tomato.

LAUGHTER

Four quid, he charged me for it. That's a good deal, that is.

Lovely bit of tomato.

Karpal has gone from being a Cockney rebel to a devout Sikh.

When his father died, 17 years ago,

he put on the turban for the first time

and vowed to make his father proud.

My father always said...

.."Son, you've always got to look after other people and all.

"Don't worry about yourself, look after everybody."

So give a little bit of food, it does a world of good.

God will thank me one day.

I'm looking for something called an etrog.

I think it's sort of something like a lemon and a lime.

Very large with very pointed bits.

For a special Jewish ceremony,

where fruits become symbolic of states of the soul.

-Are you a religious person?

-Not at all.

I'm only invited if I can find these certain very rare fruits.

It's the beginning of February and the market draws in people like Sue,

who are shopping for Tu B'Shevat, the Jewish New Year of the Trees.

Excuse me? Good morning. Do you know something called an etrog?

-An etrog, a fruit.

-An etrog?

-Yeah.

-I've never heard this name before.

-Mmm?

-I've never heard this name before.

The best bet is the Chinese people, maybe they sell it.

-Yeah.

-But we don't know.

Mr Ming, I'm looking for something called an etrog,

would you be able to help me?

-Hedgehog?

-An etrog. Not a hedgehog.

-An artichoke?

No, it's sort of, a bit like a lemon. Large.

-Go and try JT. JT.

-OK.

-Go and try JT.

-Thank you.

You see, it's not the time of year for etrogs.

It's got two points at either side. Or, maybe, at least one point.

-And it's a fruit?

-It's a fruit. Yeah.

-Hard skin or soft?

-Hard, like a lemon, but bigger.

And it smells a bit like a lime, I think.

-Are you sure it isn't a pomelo?

-Mmm?

-What we call a pomelo.

-I don't know what a pomelo is.

-Pomelo?

-Yes.

-Oh, no. No, it's not that.

-Not this?

No. No. I know what it looks like because I've seen them.

I'm looking for a mysterious fruit called an etrog.

It's a citrus fruit.

Etrog. Etrog.

It's like a lemon and a lime, it's big.

-It's not a Bangladeshi thing, is it?

-No.

-Are you Bangladeshi?

-No, I'm not. I'm a Turk.

-Oh, really?

-No one's ever called me Bangladeshi.

-Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you.

-Well, you have offended me.

Well, I didn't know! I don't mean to.

Turkey's meant to be a fantastic place.

I listened to a radio programme with a Turkish writer last night.

Brilliant.

I wonder why he didn't like Bangladeshis, why he was insulted?

People are so racist, it's natural I suppose, unfortunately.

Maybe we could get away with a large lemon?

Could that pass as an etrog? Is it just a big lemon with a point?

That's it, that's what the thing... It's meant to be a fragrance,

which is probably what they'd call a spiritual fragrance,

which puts one in mind of paradise.

Back at the temple, Karpal's bananas are about to undergo

their own spiritual transformation.

It'll get blessed. And when you do the pray, he's doing the pray now.

Once the prayer's done, then they get blessed.

PRAYING

CHANTING

He's going to take the Holy Book out now.

PRAYING

Some people might think it's strange, what we're doing.

But at the end of the day, each box of food, yeah,

it's got a life in there.

SINGING

-So these are blessed bananas now?

-This is blessed, it's all blessed.

It's a lot of food, isn't it?

Well, it is. You expect a lot of people will be coming.

In a temple it's always been pure veg. Pure veg.

No egg or no meat or anything like that.

It's always done pure veg.

And so how many people do you feed a week?

It's uncountable, because...

-10,000?

-More, more.

-Roughly? 20,000?

Yeah. You see coaches coming from other counties.

This is the biggest temple in all of England.

PRAYING

Most people do not have a spiritual connection with food.

You know what I mean?

-You're very lucky because I have.

-Ah!

-I have, yeah.

-This is the end of a long quest, you know?

-Is it really?

-I've been looking for it all evening.

-Yeah?

Do you know why the Jews value it so much?

Well, they believe that it represents the human heart.

The human heart! That's very interesting.

Some believe it represents the human heart.

Others believe it is actually the forbidden fruits

-in the Garden of Eden, and not the apple.

-Oh, interesting!

-Yeah.

-I thought it was because it smelled of paradise.

Bring out the etrog. Yay! The etrog!

-Your etrog!

-Thank you.

People are gathering to celebrate Tu B'Shevat.

Exotic fruits are central to the ceremony.

The etrog is meant to contain the scent of the Garden of Eden.

Smell. Do not taste the etrog, do not eat it.

Thanks.

Mmm! That smell!

Oh! Wonderful!

Is it nice?

Such a pure smell.

I'm not good on fruit, I couldn't care less, actually.

Really? Yet here you are at a festival of fruit.

-Hmm?

-Here you are at a festival of fruit.

I know, but it's my friend's.

Because I'm a widow, we don't get asked out often,

so I can't afford to turn any invitation down, is the truth!

Oh, God, please, quench with rain the dry wilderness.

Bless the grapes, the figs and the pomegranates.

Oh, God, please raise up the imprisoned children

and bless the walnuts, dates and apricots.

Oh, God,

please deliver the congregation that longs to be near you,

and bless the berries, the pears,

the walnuts and the citrons.

Voila.

A nice blood orange, look.

That's a blood orange. People don't know 'em.

While for some, the complex flavours of the market

are a cause for celebration,

for others they are a threat.

There's all our Afghan friends, look.

One, two, three, four, five, six.

All our Afghan friends, look, seven.

Surrounding, look, like a pack of wolves.

London, 2012.

Like a pack of wolves,

a pack of dogs on heat.

It'll be in the dictionary soon.

"Greengrocer: used to sell fruit and veg".

HE LAUGHS

Finished. Dying industry, like the prints, like the docks.

Greengrocers, a dying industry.

I'm 69 this month.

I could have retired years ago.

The reason I carry on with my son is there's no-one,

really, to carry on with him.

It's tough. Really, really tough. It's tough, mate.

I mean, you're doing six days a week up here now.

They should try to get it down to five.

Probably be a better business.

Shut one more, shut on a Monday, say.

And get it to a five day week. The foreigners don't want it to happen.

Let's be honest about it, English people go to the supermarkets.

They don't care what they pay.

But the ethnics, they go to our stalls and shops.

So more ethnics are better for us, really, in the long run.

For all they talk about the immigration and that,

I'd let 'em come in.

He's got, he's got, look - five bullet holes he's got in him.

One, two, three. They ran at him with a machine gun.

-Where was that?

-Erm, Walthamstow!

THEY LAUGH

Why did that happen?

It was my country, had too much trouble.

I'm from Afghanistan.

Look, three Afghans, look.

One, two, three. Imbeciles.

I tell you what to say.

You don't tell me what to do, I'll tell you what to do, all right?

You're in our country, you abide by our rules. I want them all taped up.

There you are, see. That's what they're like. That's it.

ISLAMIC MUSIC

-What's that? Who's that?

-It's Islamic. Islamic Masjid.

-Is that right?

-Yeah, Masjid.

It's saying, "Our country is best, our country is".

-Really?

-Yeah.

'It's all babble, babble, babble,

'and just like foreign languages I hear.

'It doesn't seem natural.

'I'm in England, for goodness' sake,

'but for all intents and purposes I could be in a different country.'

CACOPHONY OF LANGUAGES

Occasionally, cultural tensions in the market come to the surface.

Scuffle! Scuffle! Over the yam.

Every Saturday morning, many Nigerians come to Spitalfields,

looking for fresh yams.

It is customary to cut open the vegetable

to check its quality before buying.

This can sometimes lead to arguments.

This is a bull ring, mate! A human bull ring!

They want to pick pieces out of bottles.

Don't say what you don't know, you wasn't there.

You wasn't standing anywhere here!

Guys! Guys! I know your custom. I know what you want.

What are you trying to say? You know our custom?!

Don't say nothing that you don't know!

You don't have a clue. Shut up!

-I explain it to you. I explain it to you.

-Calm, calm down.

But don't do that.

Don't do that, we just came here...

SIREN WAILS

Too many bad people in the world.

Just killing each other, from each country, even here.

What for?

'We are professional traders, we are here for money.

'We just look at our figures, about how much money we are making.

'Are we making any money, or not?'

You don't think about the nationalities, about ethnics,

about the language, about the culture.

At the end of the day, when I see my reports,

I say...

..I say,

"Hmm.

"It's good."

To make it here takes more than just market knowledge

and a head for business.

Peter's need to be number one

borders on the obsessive.

The man's given me a job to do,

and now it's a test whether I can do it.

He's the executive chef at Rothschild's Bank.

And he wants some long beans.

And I hope I can find them, I've got a rough idea where

I can find them, but it might take a bit of ducking and diving.

Ever since Peter was kicked out of school,

he has been driven to succeed, at all costs.

'The thought of not being successful frightens me.

'So there's a fear factor there.

'The fear of being a failure, I could not handle that.'

That would kill me.

So that's why I do what I do.

They're called "yard beans", "long beans", "long green beans".

Long beans? I've got some there. They're lovely.

They are lovely. I want me something a little bit longer.

-You could stretch it.

-I could stretch it?

I've something else for you to stretch later on!

Any long bean?

Long bean, long Kenya bean?

-I have beans, here.

-Let me have a look.

No, I need the long ones.

They're a bit big, actually.

They're a little bit big.

-He's gone inside.

-Where is he, in there?

You don't know. You don't know where, do you?

-How you going?

-Yes?

-I want a box of long beans.

-Yes, mate.

-You got a Thailand one?

-Yeah.

-Let me have a look, please.

OK, it's over here. Hang on a minute.

This is them.

That's better. That's better.

-How much would you charge me for that?

-22.

-£22? You want £20 for two boxes? Cash?

-No.

-21 cost.

-Really? All right, give me two boxes.

-Thank you very much.

-Thank you very much.

All right?

-You spend £25,000 a night here?

-About that.

-And you haggle over a quid?

-Yeah.

Some people think that's a bit mad.

All adds up, doesn't it? It all adds up.

I can't help myself.

It's like a second nature.

Hello, Tommy. Well, it's all fell into place. I went up to Hutch,

went bang, bang, bang. Whatever I said, he took my money.

At one stage I thought I weren't going to get them beans.

Keep trying, never give up, and you find 'em.

As the market winds down, Peter is one of the last to leave.

But this commitment has come at a price.

This is my world. This is my life.

That's a terribly sad thing to say.

My wife will be over the moon, me saying that(!)

My business to me has been like another woman, I'm afraid.

And I've probably took more care of this other woman

than what I have of my wife.

So I did throw body and soul into the business,

where perhaps I should have thrown a little bit into the marriage.

Bill will have plenty of time to put into his marriage.

Today is his last morning as the owner of his stand.

He's been unable to adapt to Londoners' changing tastes,

so, after a lifetime of supplying celery, he's sold his historic

family business to newcomers - Polish mushroom importers.

What about her?

I'm not sure what we're doing with her.

I'll dismantle her, take her off the wall,

-and decide what I'm going to do with her.

-Yeah.

HE LAUGHS

Relics from the past.

Off!

So Bill, he's got the same office for many years.

His office is like a part of his body, his arm, his legs,

his brain, his heart.

You are going to bury him in the same office when he die, anyway!

HE LAUGHS I knew he can't live without this!

That's the trouble of the old-fashioned people in the market.

They need to just reorganise themselves, but they don't.

Market is losing power.

They used to be king, not the customer.

Now, customers are the kings.

21 years, it was there. 21 years!

Some people have said it's an end of an era.

For everyone.

I'm just going to be a lost soul, I suppose.

It is tough, very tough.

You must just accept this industry as your lifestyle.

You're part of it.

Then, you make money.

Can local food markets break our love affair with the superstore?

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