Glenn Telfer

Written in bile, a cautionary tale powered by the heat of burned love letters, featuring hypocrisy on the usual scale.

Inside the shell ancestral genes stir. The mind becomes dirty with greed in all its feline varieties. Men are led like helium balloons on a string to their fate. As guilt unfolds, bursting through the carapace, and providence is viewed on its way bearing the just desserts, blame is required. One call does it all and a suitable sacrificed is made to the SWAT team, while the next balloon is lined up.

Where bras and panties don’t work and sorries are not on the cards, there is always the police.