I can hardly believe he has time to savour such kitschy chocolate, in which a group of neo-hipsters get excited about recreating the Cold River massacre; but MacDonald is respectful of tradition, the fandom cast he chose as true crime enthusiasts, note that they mention the Polanski-Tate Mansion and I suspect that perhaps – and let it be noted that for at least a year I haven’t heard ‘Helter Skelter’, ‘I am the walrus’ is enough – because the slasher script, actually contradicts the sordid atmosphere of the gory crime of the newlyweds at the beginning, they even gave them a bottle of Champagne! So we await the glorification of Baphomet, even without being apprehended, to offer more bloody mischief, unlike Manson, may God rest his soul.

As I said, the only thing that saves it from being a savage reality show—and believe me, or just look at the hostess of the peaceful setting—is that it’s not like she’s welcoming the contestants and warning them that one of them will be eliminated at the end of the week —not exactly like on TV through likes and corruption for the prize promised to the winner arranged in advance—but probably, though not necessarily, like Eric in the motel, whose hole reminds us of his misfortune. And for the actress who plays the victim Caitlyn, ‘crying and dying is easy.’

Did she say it as a premonition, like Hemingway when he died, shot in the RV: ‘crying and dying is easy’? But that’s because they haven’t yet been notified of the menu and location of the remake they’ve ventured to make: meat. Caitlyn’s lookalike gets her head, and others get a couple of limbs. The after-dinner comments are most interesting.

As if a koala had been stuffed with eucalyptus leaves, Crow, one of the visitors – who appeared very abstract and energetic – sabotages their poses and celebrates so much meat – he no longer seems concerned about the vibe and feeling of the environment, that’s too abstract, damn it – and thus commits the fallacy secundum quid, because he explains that energy is obtained from the enemy by eating their flesh through exocannibalism, and not only does he do so hyperbolically, ‘he says it is practised in every corner of the world’, but he also fails to cite ‘The Golden Bough’ or Frazer, for that matter. Give me a break, you little academic crow.

Someone will tell you, I think Andy the writer, that Caitlyn was not an enemy of war but a victim, so, if you prefer, skip ahead to when Portia and Wednesday Adams (Ruby) deal with Hemingway’s charred corpse and, when trying to slide the rotting corpse, the slimy tendons of the arm separate from the torso like half-set jelly. I didn’t think some sequences were bad, such as the one in the third episode, although I found the shots of the wolf in the second episode, when Crow tries to escape at night to get help, a bit improvised. Anyway, what I liked was the narrative progression with intermittent flashbacks, which helped me understand how Andy convinced Portia to buy the exorbitantly priced crime scene (where Floyd and company want nine victims) without mentioning spending £700,000 on decoration, only for her to end up with a knife through her neck after falling asleep thanks to benzodiazepine.