Under Torch Wood (again)

It was only a matter of time until somebody wrote it. But it’s a pleasant surprise that they wrote it really quite well

FIRST VOICE Listen. Through the compromised quiet of Cardiff’s early, toe-stubbing, lavatory-flushing morning there comes a strange sound. A rhythmical seesawing, like a latchkey scraped along a bass string of a piano, appropriately edited and enhanced. A sound that has challenged and comprehensibly defeated onomatopoeic artists for many a decade.

(thanks, whotheheckami)

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