Even more dangerous to police was the district near Stinkhouse Bridge bounded by Limehouse Cut to the south and centred on Furze Street.
 Charles Booth's police informants called it the Fenian Barracks, which "sent more police to hospital than any other block in London and in which only Irish were tolerated to settle".

George H. Duckworth, one of Booth's researchers, wrote that the Barracks was about the worst district in London — "three policemen wounded there last week".
 According to his informant Inspector Carter, if they attempted an arrest "a rescue is always organized.
 They fling brick bats, iron, any thing they can lay their hands on."
 As was typical for rookeries, adjoining houses had internal passages designed for eluding police pursuit.
 Summarised Duckworth:
Men travel from house to house from within if chased.
 A cry of police brings help from every house.
 The inhabitants hustle the police, they organize rescues; not the least bit of good [using] anything less than 6 constables ... if there is any prospect of having to haul off anyone to the police station.

  In contrast, rent collectors went about the district in broad daylight wearing top hats and black coats and carrying umbrellas.

A fat refinery alongside the canal attracted visitors who, said Inspector Carter, were more terrifying than the human inhabitants: 
You should come down here on an early summer morning; if possible after a shower of rain; Rats, not in twos or threes or in 10s or twentys,  but in thousands and tens of thousands: the street will be covered with them, so will be the yard of the factory: rats, not small rats but big & fat, the size of cats : you knock a flagstone with your boot and away they go with a rush and a hissing sound from their feet upon the pavements that will make your blood run cold.

The East End was surveyed again in 1929 by researchers from the London School of Economics who found that, though the level of destitution in East London was now only about one-third as high as in Charles Booth’s time, the Fenian Barracks area was still an ugly pocket of chronic poverty.
Even more dangerous to police was the district near Stinkhouse Bridge bounded by Limehouse Cut to the south and centred on Furze Street.  Charles Booth's police informants called it the Fenian Barracks, which "sent more police to hospital than any other block in London and in which only Irish were tolerated to settle".
George H. Duckworth, one of Booth's researchers, wrote that the Barracks was about the worst district in London — "three policemen wounded there last week".  According to his informant Inspector Carter, if they attempted an arrest "a rescue is always organized.  They fling brick bats, iron, any thing they can lay their hands on."  As was typical for rookeries, adjoining houses had internal passages designed for eluding police pursuit.  Summarised Duckworth:
Men travel from house to house from within if chased.  A cry of police brings help from every house.  The inhabitants hustle the police, they organize rescues; not the least bit of good [using] anything less than 6 constables ... if there is any prospect of having to haul off anyone to the police station.
  In contrast, rent collectors went about the district in broad daylight wearing top hats and black coats and carrying umbrellas.
A fat refinery alongside the canal attracted visitors who, said Inspector Carter, were more terrifying than the human inhabitants: 
You should come down here on an early summer morning; if possible after a shower of rain; Rats, not in twos or threes or in 10s or twentys,  but in thousands and tens of thousands: the street will be covered with them, so will be the yard of the factory: rats, not small rats but big & fat, the size of cats : you knock a flagstone with your boot and away they go with a rush and a hissing sound from their feet upon the pavements that will make your blood run cold.
The East End was surveyed again in 1929 by researchers from the London School of Economics who found that, though the level of destitution in East London was now only about one-third as high as in Charles Booth’s time, the Fenian Barracks area was still an ugly pocket of chronic poverty.
Limehouse Cut