Lord Longford:
[they meet for the last time on a bench on her prison lawn. He is 92 and struggles to walk; she is 60, ill-looking, and muffled up in overcoat, shawl, and headscarf]
Goodness, how well you look!
Myra Hindley:
[smiles fondly]
Rubbish! My hair is falling out, and I'm dying of emphysema.
Lord Longford:
Well, you still look wonderful to me!
Myra Hindley:
Well, you're blind.
Lord Longford:
Nearly, yes.
Riportata da il
05/03/2025 alle ore 08:09
Consiglia
Voto
Nessun dato in archivio
Commenti
Nessun dato in archivio
