Morbidity

I was late leaving the sausage factory so left by the stage door which is the fire exit. Which is how I came to have the shock of my life as I bumped into what appeared to be a relict prop from a particularly cheap and nasty 1960s horror movie.

I actually don't know what this thing is, and I'm not sure that I shouldn't be grateful for that. I'll try to describe it. It was about six foot tall and apparently covered in a rather nasty, mottled, flesh-coloured cheap plush velvet. But for a revolting flourish of morbid growths about the crown the whole thing could have been an object of phallocentric worship left out in the rain on the doorstep of a charity shop for twenty years or more. Utterly, utterly revolting.

I pray to God it's being chucked out and not chucked in.