Murder. Extortion. Dysentery. A terrifying dispatch from Calais’ ever-growing camp of migrants dicing with death to reach Britain
Even in this vast shanty town, the tent stands out.
A message, scrawled in paint down one side, reads, ‘I Need Go To UK’, a few words in broken English that encapsulate the entire raison d’etre of the migrant encampment at Calais.
Inside the ramshackle shelter is a bearded middle-aged man wearing nothing on his feet but flip-flops. His name is Haji Shekho. He is Syrian, he says, through a friend fluent in English.
He shows me his passport and says he is a builder from Aleppo — a city devastated in the civil war and under almost constant Russian bombardment. His wife and five young children are still in Syria.
It’s not possible for them to make the perilous journey through eight countries which meant paying people-traffickers 1,000 dollars (£672) to cross the Aegean Sea to mainland Europe.