This is the most overwritten book I've ever read. Unfortunately, Alan Moore knows exactly how much polysyllabic pressure it takes to transmogrify base coal into precious gems. With lines like "his shaved suede skull made him look like a wilted thistle" and "There was a rumour of pink lipstick circling her mouth" you know you're in for a treat. Even better than the joyful prose of Bob Mortimer's Satsuma Complex. I'm also pretty sure Moore is actually a wizard. I've just finished reading a book about Black Britain in Wartime - which features Ras Prince Monolulu, who also appears in this book. Along with M. P. Shiel - who I did my GCSE coursework on. And, no spoilers, but I'm fairly sure I'd met other characters too. The only logical conclusion is that Moore is stalking my brain. It is an epic tale full of rogues and reprobates. The story is excellent even though the plot follows a fairly basic structure. Although set up to be a series, it is a satisfying stand-alone tale. My only real…
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