Politicians pull strings to make the mouth on their masks work, the mask that they hope will fool us all into thinking that they aren't hideous self serving monsters.
The Pale Horse was a converted Tudor inn tucked away in an English village, inhabited by the local witch, a learned female occultist and an inane medium draped in saris and beads.
Mark Eastbrook might have dismissed them as three harmless fools – if he had not suspected that the house was the headquarters of a gang that specialized in the removal of rich, unwanted relatives…
Or something like that.
Portraits – Caricatures – Illustrations
www.markeastbrook.co.uk
2 comments:
o you devil you… how true… nice work…
Nice piece. Excellent work as usual.
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