I've tried one of his

meat pies once. Horrible, they

were. I told him so.

- Oi, Dibbler! Your meat

pies make me sick! What do you

make them from, anyway?

He smirked at me. I

knew at once - not the kind

right question to ask.

- I'd rather you not

inquire. But d'ya want a shave?

Complementary?

I might have noticed.

He was somehow different.

But it was too late.

Before, I have seen

him but just a few times.

Did not remember.

He led me into

his shop in Short Street. I sat

down into a chair.

"Dibbler" took out

a razor. Abundance of

them, my first gaze told.

And though my soul was

not saved, I went to my maker

impeccably shaved.

By Sweeney. Sweeney

Todd – The Barber of

Short Street. Or Fleet Street.

Either.