Nothing about it seems real. Mediaeval artists must have dreamt up nightmarish visions of hell like this, visions of drowning in a swarm of rats and flies. The flies are disappearing into the rats’ mouths, eating their way through their eyes and forcing themselves up nostrils and plunging into earholes. Their tails flail spastically, their noses twitch, their feet spasm. When the flies emerge, the lifeless husks drop to the floor, joining the growing sea of hollow rats. It is a c*****e of blood and leaking guts, mostly dead rats and a few crushed flies. The floor of my dining room is slippery and disgusting.
Last night, the Queen Mother came to see me as I prepared the feast. And she gave me strict instructions. I did as I was told, happy to be in touch with her again after all these year
