‘I like London. I like pavements. I like to walk out the door and not sink up to my waist in primordial sludge. I don’t like sheep. I don’t like the country. It’s covered in shit.’
West waits in a burnt-out farmhouse on Dartmoor in the depths of winter with two associates from the city. The wine has been poured and the revolver loaded…
A dark comedy of mysterious intentions and personal isolation.
Missing Stories We're collecting short stories / anecdotes / trivia about each show. If you've got something to share send the editors a message.