WARNING

You stand at the threshold of my, that is to say, I, Garth Merenghi’s DARKPLACE, a realm of dread, night-terrors, and prose so potent it makes lesser writers physically nauseous especially those cowards who rely on so-called “subtext”

Entering is not for the faint of heart, nor the soft-bellied optimists who demand reassurance or perhaps require the holding of a hand. Proceed only if you are prepared to bear witness to horrors so entirely unfilmable that I was forced to televise them instead

If this isn't for you, then simply click LEAVE to go somewhere far more saccharine, otherwise, steady yourself, get a stiff drink and proceed to my DARKPLACE by clicking on ENTER