The Raven Union is going to att*ck London before the year's out.
There will be a proper argy-bargy.
f*ck off, mate.
The Union have the regular Army on their side.
They have tanks, a*tillery and man power, and they're up against...
...poorly armed, poorly led civilians.
We're charging you with...
subversion and conspiring to commit violent acts.
Take your clothes off.
Tell you what, sir...
This is the chap.
Colonel John Salt of the Union Militia.
Before the w*r, I worked at a place we called Room 101.
A t*rture chamber really.
When you're ready, mate.
We're in a bit of a hurry.
Best find the bus stop then, eh?
It's good to see you, Thomas.
The big news is, I'm engaged.
Oh, no kidding.
Goodbye, young man.
Perhaps we'll meet again.
You know me, I love a crisis.
London, rejoice!
Final victory of the Raven Union is near.
With the might of the armed forces on our side, we will triumph over the English League and their young Queen.
The leftist factions still tyrannize...
Hello, Martha.
Glad to see you amusing yourself.
We have time on our hands.
The Union just lob the occasional mortar.
Waiting for us to surrender, I guess.
How I wish we could do that.
Surrender.
The very word sounds delicious.
News of Salt's escape reached you I expect.
It did.
I'm sorry to waste all your good work.
Entirely my fault.
What went wrong?
Sad to say, I'm about 87% sure we were set up by Alfred Pennyworth.
Wow.
The lousy son of a bitch.
A useful man you know to be untrustworthy is better than no man at all.
I don't know about that.
Talking of useful men, I hear you ran into an old friend of ours.
Oh.
Oh, yes, yes.
Yeah, Thomas Wayne came by.
How is the rascal?
That's why you came all the way out here to see me.
Heh.
I do try to avoid front lines if I can.
Since when are you spying on me, Victor?
Seriously, Martha, get a grip.
We were following Thomas Wayne.
Right.
Sorry.
Paranoia.
I know the feeling.
Thomas Wayne was fine and dandy.
Blooming.
What d'you want to know?
Uh...
Still with the same company, is he?
Yup.
And the company says f*ck liberty and democracy, they're staying neutral.
Of course they are.
And that doesn't mean we shouldn't cultivate their friendship.
No?
I told him to take a hike.
Why on earth did you do that?
He only came by to snoop around.
f*ck him and f*ck the CIA.
My dear Martha, you must tell him he need not hike anywhere on your account.
The hell I will.
I gather he's engaged to be married.
What of it?
Perhaps, and I tread lightly here, perhaps his engagement has peeved you, somehow?
I'm not the slightest bit peeved.
Uh-- Okay, yeah, I'm peeved.
I'm peeved because he and his paymasters are standing by and letting fascists take over this country.
And we, Martha, must do our best to encourage them not to do that.
For liberty and democracy and all that.
It's your duty.
What are you looking at?
Where are you taking me?
Wherever this bus goes.
If it ever comes.
Then we'll see.
Just so long as we're out of the immediate vicinity.
I want to go home.
You can't.
Why not?
First place they'll be looking for you.
Looking for me?
Slow as paint.
You're lucky you've got me watching out for you.
If I let you go off on your own, you'll be caught, and they'll blame you for k*lling Major Sutcliffe and they'll hang you.
Now, you're with me until I get this sorted.
Sorted?
How?
Lord Harwood's a close personal friend of mine.
Soon as I tell him what's occurred, he'll have it all expunged.
That's the technical word for it.
Expunged.
Lord Harwood?
A friend of yours?
You're looking at me like I'm a liar.
No.
If you say it's so.
He made me a captain, got me this job.
If there's owt he can do for me, his Lordship'll do it.
f*ck's sake, gloomy guts.
Time was you were banged up naked with a cock in your face.
Look at you now.
I'm cold.
Why didn't you say something?
Hey, you.
Hello.
You alright?
Mmm.
Give us your coat.
Pardon?
Your coat, man.
My coat?
I don't-- What?
Give us.
Your coat.
Thank you.
Well, Where's this f*cking bus, eh?
Love, thank you.
Oi!
Get another one.
America.
America.
When?
Lot of pay-offs to make, but we should be underway end of next week.
When do we tell Chadley and the staff?
We don't.
We'll leave 'em a note and some cash.
Walk away without saying goodbye?
That's cold.
It's just good sense.
If we tell the staff, it's as good as telling the whole city we're leaving.
We are leaving.
People will say we're running away.
We are running away.
We're not running away, we're moving on.
Since when d'you care what other people say?
I don't.
I just don't want any aggravation, that's all.
Surprise is always the best strategy.
True.
Especially when you're running away.
But you'll tell Sandra you're leavin', eh?
When the time's right.
I feel bad for her.
Poor wee thing.
f*ck's sake, Daveboy.
He feels bad too.
I feel great thank you very much.
We're making a fresh start.
New horizons.
Stands to reason there'll be hard choices along the way.
Here's to hard choices then, eh?
Hard choices.
Sod it.
Lines are down.
What'll we do?
I'm thinking.
I'm tired.
I can't walk anymore.
We'll have to hide somewhere until I can talk to his Lordship.
Word of what we've done will be all over by now.
I haven't done anything.
Stop moaning.
Come on.
There we are then.
Nice and cozy, eh?
Mm-hmm.
It'll do.
I'll try his Lordship again later and the phones'll work...
...and we'll be right as rain.
Have you ever been to Liverpool, Jimmy?
Can't say that I have.
Ghastly place.
But I like the people though.
Amusing.
Stubborn.
I wish to God they would surrender.
All of them.
Manchester, London.
Horrors they would save us from.
Well, you know they won't, old girl.
Not yet.
One last fierce as*ault should break them.
Oh.
Ah Salt, it's good to have you back on the job.
What would we do without you?
What d'you got for us today?
Good morning, your Lordship.
Mrs.
Gaunt.
I have the results of the latest Stormcloud tests.
Well, I'll-- I'll look at those later.
Stormcloud tests?
That sounds intriguing.
Well, it's all very speculative.
You know these boffins.
On what are they speculating?
I'm sorry, sir.
I assumed Mrs. Gaunt knew.
Never mind, Salt.
It's all top secret stuff.
Top secret, from me?
These things have to be kept close.
Strictly need to know basis.
I need to know.
It's chemicals.
Chemicals?
Yes.
Gases and so forth.
Salt can fill you in on all the details.
But I say it's all very speculative.
You mean poisonous gases?
For God's sake, woman, we're at w*r.
You want choices?
Well, here's a damn choice.
Well, Colonel Salt, tell me about these 'speculative' gases of yours.
Yes, ma'am.
The science department reports the latest tests of the prototype are promising, as regards reaction time and post mortem presentation.
I have the numbers here if you'd like to look at them.
And what, in God's name, is post mortem presentation?
How the victims look after death.
An important metric.
You can go now.
I know, I know.
You needn't give me a lecture.
You're right.
This won't do.
Promise me to put an end to this monstrosity.
The boffins come up with this clever stuff and it's hard not to get drawn in.
Promise me.
There is a moral argument to be made.
Oh, really?
In cold numbers of human death and injury caused, gas is actually no worse than aerial bombing and a*tillery.
Except there's no structural damage.
See, that's the thing.
No, Jimmy.
That is not the thing.
You're right.
It won't do.
I'll put a stop to it.
I'll-- I will.
No, it is not famine...
or disease that will bring humanity low.
It is not Lord Harwood and his fascist cronies.
We'll see them off.
What are you watching?
The nuclear b*mb, my friends.
It was cowboys.
That's the enemy.
They say the b*mb brings peace.
Those are the dread-- Cup of tea?
I'm having a sherry.
I'll put the kettle on.
I've got good news.
What's that then?
-We've got the money.
-What money?
We've got enough money now for the bribes and the transit papers and the visas.
We're going to America, Mom.
A new life.
Just now on the telly, a man in America d*ed from a bear having a go at him.
They get up to all sorts, the animals over there.
Not everywhere.
Not in the cities.
I keep telling you I'm not going and you keep acting as though you can't hear me.
"A new life," he says.
What am I going to do with a new life?
Well, I'm not gonna leave you here, am I?
What if the neighbors came round and saw you like this?
Like what?
There's cobwebs on the mantel and you're on the sherry and chips watching Bonanza.
If Dad was here he'd say, "Where's your gumption, Mother?" He'd say, "Pull your socks up." And I'd tell him where to shove his bloody socks.
And bugger the neighbors!
They point at me and whisper.
There's her whose son k*lled his father.
Stay away from her.
I can't even look at you without thinking about what happened.
That's all in the past, Mom.
We have to try to move forward.
I'm sorry.
I shouldn't have said that.
Sorry.
That's alright, Mom.
I don't want to move forward, Alfie.
I just want to end my life here, and sooner rather than later.
In a place I'm used to.
Least said soonest mended, eh?
I'll put the kettle on.
Pleasure to see you, ma'am.
What brings you to London?
The food.
Mmm.
Don't get me started.
I'm on route to Moscow.
Figure I'd stop by.
There's a project underway that's best discussed face to face.
Yes, ma'am.
We have a problem with the hydrogen b*mb.
Well, it's a great product, but the public don't like it.
Image wise, the nuclear disarmament folks have done a darn good job of painting us as greedy warmongers.
We're over it.
We're going to start kicking some public relations butt.
It sounds like an idea.
The top anti-nuclear campaigner in England is Archbishop Potter, Prime Minister of The English League.
Now, he's got beaucoup moral authority, and he is highly problematic to k*ll.
So what do we do?
Take away his moral authority, I suppose.
Can you say that with a smile?
Do I have to?
Politics is dirty, Thomas.
You got to enjoy playing in the dirt.
I follow policy directives.
Whether or not I enjoy the task.
I'm glad to hear you say so.
I haven't gotten to the part you really won't enjoy.
Hello, Alfie.
Evening.
Join us.
I wanted a word with your girl here, but I can come back later if you're busy.
Nah, we're just talking a bit of business.
Oh?
I was just saying to Sand here, I've been in discussions with the manager of the Hippodrome.
He's figured of offering her a sh*t as an opening act.
Nice.
We've got to choose the right repertoire, you know, work on her stagecraft as we call it, but things are looking really good.
Dad says we have to strike while the iron's hot and all that-- I don't think I'm ready.
Oh, give over.
Look at you.
You're beautiful, you sing like a f*cking bird, what more could you want, am I right?
He's right.
Sky's the limit, Sands.
Right, I'll leave you two lovebirds to it.
Gotta piss.
Me bladder's like a prune these days.
Don't do anything I wouldn't do.
Dad!
Go on then.
What?
You wanted a word.
Right.
Yeah, I do.
Don't worry, I won't give you the elbow when I'm rich and famous, if that's what you're worried about.
That's, that's good.
Yeah, no, it's some-- You can be my bodyguard.
We'll be flying around in airplanes and that.
It'll be ever so glamorous.
Sounds nice.
Well, you know me, I'm loyal.
Yeah, you are.
Why you looking sad?
I'm not, I'm just thinking...
What the f*ck's he doing here?
Who?
Thomas Wayne.
I, um, I better go and say hello.
We'll talk later, yeah?
Mr.
Wayne?
Alfred!
What a-- What a pleasant surprise.
You work here?
It's my club.
Wow, uh, that's excellent.
You're doing very well then.
Bravo.
You were home in the States.
Well, I was.
I'm back.
Welcome back then, I suppose.
Thomas, my dear, how are you?
Hello, I'm Aleister Crowley.
Alfred Pennyworth.
Ah, the notorious Alfred Pennyworth.
I've heard so much about you.
What a lovely place you have.
I thought you'd look more butch.
You're so young and pretty.
Alright.
Nice to meet you, Mr. Crowley.
Sheri...
- Yes, Alfie.
Take good care of these gentlemen for me.
Mr. Wayne's an old friend.
Will do, Alfie.
Gentlemen...
Come with me.
Here we are.
What can I get you?
Gin and tonic, please, my dear.
A glass of milk.
- Sure.
You might have chosen a more discreet place to meet.
Oh, don't worry.
Tout le monde gathers here.
One might bump into anyone without arousing suspicion.
What can I do for you, Thomas?
I was surprised to hear from you.
We parted in such acrimony.
Yeah, I was surprised myself.
My superiors have a proposal for you.
You have superiors?
You astonish me.
Tell all.
We gather you're very well connected inside the Raven Union.
You gather correctly.
But...
you're held at arms length, in the shadows.
Because you do the squalid things that other people find repugnant.
A sort of carrion bird.
Precisely.
I'm loving the proposal so far.
A close friendship with a U.S. agency would elevate your status inside the Union, would it not?
You intrigue me.
Go on.
If a particular individual, identified as harmful to Anglo-American relations, if that person suffered some sort of...
scandal, driving them from public life...
Langley would find a way of showing gratitude.
I accept your proposal.
Who's my pigeon?
Archbishop Potter.
Archbishop Potter?
Prime Minister of the English League.
Pillar of morality.
Difficult, but not impossible.
Consider it done.
I'm sorry that you're so personally conflicted.
My personal feelings are neither here nor there.
I have only one condition.
Don't give me any of your soul selling drivel.
No, no, you've already sold your soul.
All I want...
is a kiss.
God loves you, Thomas, but He's very judgmental, isn't He?
Satan doesn't judge.
He adores every part of you.
Even the squalid lust for advancement that led you here.
All he wants in return, is a little respect.
A gesture of friendship.
You're serious?
Always.
g*dd*mn it...
Thank you.
Manchester and Liverpool can hold out for now at least.
If we send them more men and supplies, they may last a couple of months more, but they will still be defeated in the end.
I won't hear such talk.
We must think positively.
There is always hope.
Hear hear!
With all due respect, Prime Minister, I am thinking positively.
We must use the time and the resources we still have to build better defenses for London.
I disagree.
We cannot afford to lose any more territory.
We must resolve to hold Manchester and Liverpool at all costs.
Resolution is all very well, Mr.
Ripper, but it's no impedance to tanks.
Are they really truly doomed?
They've done jolly well so far.
Doomed, ma'am, and draining vital resources from London.
For a policeman, you're very sure of your m*llitary expertise.
Are gravediggers any more qualified?
Chair recognizes the Woodcraft Folk.
Speaking as a person of proud Cornish descent, I'd like to point out, the all too typical London-centric focus of this debate.
Oh, my God.
Your point is well taken, young man.
Let us take a brief moment to send our prayers and thoughts to the people of Cornwall and the Channel Islands, fighting the good fight alongside us.
- Operator.
- Hello, Operator.
Put us through to Raven Union HQ switchboard in Watford, please.
- Right away.
- Raven Union headquarters.
Hello, Lord Harwood's office, please.
What's this regarding, please?
That's my business, pet.
You can say it's a friend of his Lordship.
Leader's office.
Good morning.
May I speak to his Lordship, if you'd be so kind.
Name and purpose of call?
It's a personal matter.
We're old friends.
Name?
Tell him it's Bet.
I'm in a spot of bother and I need his help.
Thank you, madame.
Your call has been logged and will receive the appropriate attention.
No, pet.
you don't understand.
I need to speak to him.
That's not how it works.
Good day to you.
Hel--?
Hello?
Hello?
Hello, Operator.
Primrose 2154, please.
Yes, I know they're under siege.
But they've still got phones, haven't they?
I need to speak to my sister.
Well, when are you gonna switch 'em back on?
That's no bloody good, is it?
Could take months.
Thanks for nothing.
Help!
Help!
I'm in here!
Hellfire!
Why are you yelling?
I told you I'd come back, didn't I?
You've been gone for hours.
Well, I'm back now.
I've got bread and then cheese margarine, and...
a bottle of Tizer.
I'll make the sandwiches.
You can help if you like.
We'll have a picnic.
I thought I was going to die.
Death by being on your own for a bit?
Terrible way to go.
I was scared you wouldn't come back.
Don't be silly.
Now then, I'll uncuff you, but you'll have to promise not to play silly buggers.
-Alright?
-I promise.
Honestly, how a nervous nelly like you could go around doing terrorism?
You must have been sh1tting yourself.
I'm not a t*rror1st.
So you keep saying.
I'm not.
I'd like to believe you, duck, I would, but they do it by science now, identifying subversives.
They've got machines.
American machines.
The yanks aren't going to get it wrong, are they?
They're sending a bastard to the moon.
I told you, I'm an art student.
I go to Norwich Poly.
That reminds me.
You could do us a drawing, eh?
Take your mind off things.
I don't feel like drawing.
Go on.
You can draw me.
I don't want to.
Doesn't have to be me.
Use your imagination.
I don't want to draw.
Oh, I see.
You're not an artist, are you?
That was lies.
You don't want to draw because you'll show yourself up to be a bloody t*rror1st.
That is not-- You...
Okay, I'll draw something.
Good lass.
I'll know if you're any good, mind.
My little sister were mad for drawing.
Years after she'd gone we'd find her pencils down the settee.
Why'd you do that?
Please let me go!
Please!
I've told you more than once why that's not on.
Why can't you see sense?
Because you're crazy!
I'm-- I'm trying to help you.
I am.
Oi!
This area is closed by order of county marshals.
Sorry, duck.
Didn't see the signs.
We'll be off.
What were you doin'?
Having a snog.
Not illegal, is it?
Let's see your ID cards.
-Left 'em at home.
-You're coming with us then.
Thank you.
You took long enough.
Are they-- Are they alright?
Yeah.
Not to worry.
No!
What?
Why did you do that?
Can't have 'em telling where we are.
We'll have hundreds of the buggers after us.
You're a bit soft for a t*rror1st, innit ya?
I'm not a t*rror1st!
Oh, keep your knickers on.
I'm just teasing you.
Best be off, eh?
Hello?
Hello, is Alfie there, please?
I'm afraid he's at work.
You're sure he's not there?
I just said that, didn't I?
Just want to be on the safe side.
Get your hands off me!
Get your filthy hands off me!
Who the f*ck are you?!
Get off!
Get off!
Get off!
f*cking assh*le!
You f*cking bastards!
Thank you.
SANDRA: Alfie!
Guess what?
What?
I'm on at the Hippodrome!
They said yes!
Hey!
That's brilliant!
Well done, girl!
I'm bottom of the bill and I only sing one song, but still, the Hippodrome.
Hey, I'm really, really proud of you.
It's three weeks from Saturday.
You'll come, won't you?
Make sure you haven't got a job on.
Um, yeah.
'Course.
I'll try.
You'll try?
Yeah.
No.
No, I'll be there.
But you never know, do you?
There's a w*r on.
Don't say that.
What song you going to sing?
Well, Dad wants me to sing a ballad, but I'll be ever so nervous and my ballads are wobbly when I'm nervous...
I think I'd rather do more of a sing along sort of number.
What do you reckon?
Um, I'll have a think.
It'd be nice if I sing a song you choose.
It was you that gave me the courage to do this.
No, no, it's you that's done this.
You, with your talent and your goodness.
Nothing to do with me.
You remember that.
Sandra...
Yeah?
You had something to wanted to tell me?
No.
No, never mind.
Not important.
Okay.
Texas hold 'em is all they play in Las Vegas.
I'll get the hang of it, but it's a strange game.
It's more of a Kn*fe fight than a chess match.
Problem?
Nah.
Cushty.
You don't have to go.
Do what?
I'm going, but you don't have to.
What are you on about?
You're mad.
I'm going.
How old's that sandwich?
Old.
If it's the Queen, I'm not here.
Hello?
Bazza, is Alfie there?
He's right here.
Alfie, it's your mother.
Mom?
Alfie...
I've been kidnapped.
Are you alright?
Have they hurt you?
I'm alright.
They want me to read this letter to you.
It's going to be alright, Mom.
"If you want to see me alive again, "come alone with $20,000 "to the corner of Battlebridge Road "and York Way.
"They know you've got the money so don't try to bargain.
"You've got one hour.
Alone, or I'm dead." It's going to be alright, Mom.
Don't do it, Alfie!
Mom's been taken.
They want the money in Kings Cross.
One hour.
I'll get the car...
You silly cow!
What d'you do that for?
Daveboy!
Boots on!
It costs nothing to be polite.
Do you want to f*cking die?
I'm not bothered.
Couldn't care less.
You'd offer me a glass of water if you was a gentleman.
Very kind.
Who are you people?
That's why we have masks.
So you don't know who we are.
Must be very hot.
Give me the bag.
Where's me mom?
Give me the bag and we'll let her go.
f*ck off.
No mom, no bag.
That ain't the plan.
It's all there.
No trouble.
But you got to show me my mom first.
That's only reasonable.
Give me the f*cking bag, mate, or we'll k*ll her!
Not your shout, is it?
You're an oily rag.
Go and tell your guvnor that I won't cough up until I see my mom.
Wait here.
I'm losing my touch.
I told you two to stay away.
Now get the f*ck out of here.
Nah, it's only me.
Bazza!
before he comes back.
Are you sure?
Yes, get in the car.
Take out your g*n and drop it.
Get in.
Only two of you?
I know judo and all that you know.
From the army.
Try something.
What's that?
A flare g*n?
I'm not a ship at sea.
It's a .44 Magnum, and it'll take your head off like a walnut whip.
Nah.
That's a flare g*n, mate.
Are you sailors?
I know you're f*cking amateurs.
You're sailors, aren't you?
Jolly jack tars.
Is that a flare g*n?
Is it?
Oh no, I stand corrected.
It's not a flare g*n.
You, keep drivin'.
If you've hurt my mom...
I don't even know what I'll do.
Steady on, mate!
She's alright!
Look, it's only business, and we're all businessmen.
Businessmen?
Take off your mask.
I don't know you.
Who the f*ck are you?
We're just hired hands, mate.
Who's your guvnor?
I don't know.
Give over.
I swear!
He only hired us last week.
We met him twice and he wears a mask all the time.
Like a secret mastermind sort of thing.
Calls himself Mr. X.
Where were you taking me?
Caravan on Clerkenwell Fields.
Who's there?
Your mum-- Well, a nice little old lady, I assume that's your mum-- and the guvnor.
And three other blokes.
Muscle.
I don't know who they are.
What, they wear masks too, do they?
Ugh-- Please don't hit me again.
Take the second left.
Amateurs.
The money's all here.
Where's me mom?
Well, where's me mom?
Bring her out here.
Your money's all there, mate.
Hand her over and I'll give this to you, I walk away.
But mom comes first.
Alfie?!
Mom?
Is that you?
You alright?
I'm alright, son.
Don't give the bastards a penny!
Shut it!
Or else what?
You leave this to me!
You've worked hard for that money!
Mom!
Be quiet and let me handle this.
Don't you tell me to be quiet!
You go away!
That money's for my grandchildren, if you ever settle down, which you should.
Not now, Mom!
You promised me you that, and I'll die happy.
For f*ck's sake.
Freeze!
Toss your g*ns away.
Now get on your knees, hands on your head.
Now!
It's okay, I've got you.
Yeah?
Yeah.
Stop!
Hold your fire, boys!
You alright?
I'm alright.
Are you alright?
Yeah, I'm alright.
Alfie!
Get the-- f*ck.
Be a good chap and come quietly, would you?
Alright, Daveboy?
Oi, smashing.
f*ck.
They've got my money.
You let them get away!
What money is that?
Ransom money.
They abducted my mom!
What the f*ck are you doing here?
Perhaps we got the wrong end of the stick.
We've been watching you and we rather suspected you were meeting with the men who took Colonel Salt.
Oh...
A division of spoils.
This was not them?
Why would you suspect that?
Why do you suppose I would suspect that?
You're wrong.
And that's besides the point.
You've buggered me good and proper now.
Mr. Aziz.
I might have known.
You bastards.
I was off to f*ck Doris Day.
You're an albatross, you are.
Hmm.
Oh, God...
Forgive me.
Oh, sir!
Don't do that.
Oh...
Oh God, I beg you!
Forgive me!
Forgive me.
My child, please stop.
Tell me what's wrong.
Only God can help me.
I talk with God all the time.
Perhaps I can help you get in touch with him.
Let's have a cup of tea, shall we?
Would you like some liniment for your head?
You'll have a nasty bruise.
A sign of piety among the Saracen.
Will you tell me your troubles, young man?
You don't have to tell me anything of course.
You don't have to speak at all if you don't want to.
Tea and biscuits is often enough, don't you find?
You know my troubles.
How can I know your troubles?
Don't you know who I am?
I know who you are.
What do you know?
You believe you're a servant of the Devil.
I've never suffered such a delusion myself, so I can't truly know your troubles.
I can guess, but I don't want to do that.
I want to escape from him, but I don't know if I have the strength.
You have the strength.
The Devil has no servants.
He's a ghost we conjure up to explain away our sins.
He's the dog that ate your homework.
Let your mind dwell in the light of God and he will disappear like a shadow.
I've seen him.
I've touched him.
He did evil things to me.
I know he's real.
More real than you or I.
What did he do to you?
It's not that I don't want to tell you, but you wouldn't believe or understand me.
You can let me try.
I'm not sure you want to go where I'll take you.
Don't you worry about me.
Close your eyes.
Leave this world.
Go down to the darkest depths of your imagination.
Then descend further.
And further.
Imagine feeling, in that moment of vile unspeakable degradation, the most intense bliss.
As if the universe trembled at your touch and opened up like a flower.
I'm afraid my imagination has no such depths.
I could show you.
But I wouldn't want to do that.
You seem like a good kind man.
I'm sorry to burden you with my torments.
Oh, heavens, don't apologize.
I'm here to help.
What d'you mean exactly, you could show me?
Those depths?