End Times

A cautious, castrated priest frolics hesitantly in a damaged nirvana, beneath a petroleum sun. A petro-chemical, gay sun, which glimmers over ruined London. Everything is sick and blank, even if it is billious. Extremists fire assault weapons from crumbling balconies into a cruel sky. Drugged hookers fellate self-hating, arrogant narcissists. Neurotic elderly ladies assault perplexed infants as craven junkies finger bemused Asian teenagers.