...

You know what gives me the absobloominlutely bleedin shivers? That little kid Clov sees out of the window towards the end of the play. Hamm can’t see a damn, so he doesn’t matter. But what does Clov see? Remember Mammon from Constantine? Well, kid Mammon. Skin scorched grey, black. Peeling off in places. Hanging like a rag in others. But enough remains for you to know that it was a kid. Is a kid.

Head slightly tilted, hungry eyes. Dragging a leg. Eyeball bulging. About to burst. Right arm extended, hand curled in a twisted gesture of possession, supplication. A long-nailed, stumpy fingered paw. Tongue wrenched out. Single sharp simple tooth. Unspeakable, unspeaking.

You do not know what it is about to do. But it is about to do something. It wants to say something. You cannot hear it. But you know it is trying to say something. To you. You loathe it, fear it, but can’t take your eyes from it. It has seen you. You are hidden behind your window, but it has seen you.

It is coming.