'It’s 1688: Michael Richard Weatherley stalks the countryside with eyeholes squatted by William of Orange and half your sick pay. It’s 1834: the whole heritage lash of Dominic Raab’s tongue is a shell company located, illegally, inside Peter Cruddas, Baron Cruddas. It’s 1861: the Special Demonstration Squad infiltrates the alphabet wearing dead children’s names as faces. Where names are repossessed in order to gaslight and murder, murder must be resurrected as the summons, the cursing, the bitter apostrophe of naming. From splinters of the enemy language – is the ‘spy gash’ a wound, a mouth or an eye? – Cole Denyer forms an ‘improvised weapon’ of sanctions, fences, sections and letters. But the sounds of this venom spill out a counter-spell of such melody you will wonder if it is a shard you have in your teeth or the best part of a hymn.

- Joseph Minden