West-enders are like Montreal Canadiens hockey fans. They walk with their noses stuck permanently up in the air, though no one is quite sure what they’re being so superior about. The Canadiens haven’t won anything in over a decade, and the west end’s losing streak? Even longer.

When I step out of an empty cocktail bar on Queen East, the sound of my Italian-made brogues clicking on the pavement sends an echo down the deserted street. It’s barely 9 pm.