Grotesque Russian paintings were being exhibited on the second level where there was a small bookshop stocked only with Lithuanian tomes and anti-Putin pamphlets. Three women were sitting at a kiddies' table in the middle, having tea. Chopin tinkled in the background. The owner was clinging on to her prettiness with an appalling blonde rinse. It had given her hair the look of straw. Half-hearted attempts were made to sell me white chocolates. But I wanted to talk about Beckton. 

"I don't live in Britain. I live in Lithuania. I watch Lithuanian TV. I use the internet in Lithuanian. My friends are all Lithuanians. This shop is Lithuanian. I only meet Lithuanians. The only thing I do in Britain is pay taxes to the British." 

Beckton empties between 6 and 7.30am. The first trains belong to Africans and Eastern Europeans. Africans have sewn up industrial office cleaning. Poles, Romanians and Lithuanians have tied up building. Because they are reliable and recommend their friends, these jobs are rarely advertised in English. Their girlfriends dominate house cleaning and waitressing. 

In the morning darkness past illuminated Canary Wharf ride the bleary-eyed renovators of a city they barely understand. Men like Jurek, a phlegmatic Polish labourer from Gdansk. He commutes in every morning to Kensington. London construction is a game for the rich. There are no jobs building office blocks and data centres in the suburbs but they are three a penny digging basement ballrooms in the Royal Borough. 

Back home, Jurek used to work at a sewage treatment plant. All day he would stare at the shit daydreaming about EuroMillions. They sacked him. He had always loved gambling. So after three days drinking he got on a night bus, without any real plan. He woke up at Victoria coach station-our miserable Ellis Island. Poles he met there told him their foreman needed extra labourers. The pay was only £5 an hour but it was in a good area. They promised good tools. 

Jurek was gobsmacked by the white wedding-cake mansions this Perivale Polish company was renovating. They had columns like ancient temples over the doors. Floral stucco mouldings rounded the ceilings. He was also surprised that everyone who lived in Arcadia appeared to be Filipino.