Do we hear the sound of falling bodies from the battlements of Commerzbank in London? Is there already enough blood on the pavement to delight the Dracula Gourmet Club, which salivates over the prospect of slowly-cooked jugged hare and oozing boudin noir for breakfast? Did Regis 'Reggie' Fraisse, the reclusive Frenchman, who packed his Camembert sandwiches and walked away on New Year's Eve, leave the front gates open for the barbarians outside to come in and put every last man, woman and child to the sword?
February 04, 2000