Mr Jones sits at breakfast with Mrs Jones. He has what he always has. "Nice breakfast, dear?" asks Mrs Jones. "Yes" replies Mrs Jones. Mr Jones finishes his paper and dabs the crumbs from his mouth. He puts on his suit jacket and leaves for work. "Have a nice day, dear" says Mrs Jones. Mr Jones starts his journey to work. He passes the bus shelter where a bunch of men have surrounded a woman. They jostle her. One punches her full in the face. She grabs her face and bends forward. The same man punches the back of her head, forcing her to the ground. She curls into a ball. Another man bends down and holds her arms away from her face. The first man sweeps his boot back and kicks her in the face. Her head judders backward then bounces back. Her nose is flat, blood runs down her face. She breaks her arms free and is about to shield herself when he kicks her again. Again her head flies back. Her arms stay mid-air, like they were held up with wires. Her face is now covered in blood. He kicks her again, her face becomes unrecognisable, her arms drop like someone cut the wires. She lies dead and bleeding. The men look down at her body. One places his briefcase on the ground. He plays with the combination lock and the lid springs open. He takes out the axe. He pauses for a while, looking at her. He lifts the axe above his head and brings it down, lodging it into her back. He moves the handle back and forth, worming it free. A pool of blood starts to form around her. He brought it down again, it cut deep into her neck, knocking her head into an impossible angle. Someone else started to undress her. She lay naked, broken, bleeding, dead. The men studied her mutilated body. No-one said a word. The first man knelt down beside her. He inserted his finger inside her and moved it around a little. He took it out and sniffed it. He paused...then sniffed again. He turned and wandered off, periodically sniffing his finger. The others only stayed for a few moments then left also. Mr Jones approached the body and peered over it. "Animals" he thought. He went to work.

When work was done Mr Jones started to walk home. He passed the bus stop. There was a woman naked on the ground. There was a man holding each limb. In front of her was an orderly queue of men. Each one held a razor blade. The man at the front knelt in between the woman's legs. He paused for a second then slashed her belly with the razor. A gash opened in her then blood welled up in the wound and spilled onto the ground. The man left. The next man in the queue came forward and knelt by her head. He slashed her face with the razor. Her cheeks flapped open, exposing her teeth. The man left. The next man in the queue came forward and knelt beside her. He slowly drew his razor from one side of her nipple to the other, cutting through it. Her nipple started to squirt blood. After a few spurts it slowed to a steady stream. The man left. The next man approached and knelt beside her. With a finger and thumb he pinched her labia. Holding it outward he sliced a piece off with his razor. He stared at it a while then left. "Animals" thought Mr Jones then left for home.

"How was your day, dear?" asked Mrs Jones. "Fine" said Mr Jones. Mr Jones ate his tea. He had what he always has...but... "My fish is cold, dear" said Mr Jones. "I'm sorry" said Mrs Jones. Mr Jones finished his fish and Mrs Jones took the plate to the kitchen to wash it. Mr Jones came up behind her with an iron bar and smashed it into her skull. She dropped dead. He brought the bar down on her head again and again. Soon she had no head. Just mush spread over the kitchen floor. "I don't like cold fish" said Mr Jones.

The next morning Mr Jones ate breakfast alone. He left for work and at the bus stop was a man with a rope around a woman's neck. He knelt on her back and pulled the rope tighter. The woman's face was purple. "Animals" thought Mr Jones.

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