Shooting Times Review

“The nice man made me sit on a kitchen chair, eyes firmly to the front. He peered into my ears with a light on a stick, inserted a foam plug, pushed it well in and stood back. His assistant advanced menacingly like the malignant dentist in Marathon Man, clutching the sort of hypodermic they use to inject horses, and before I could move I had squirted into my ear a glutinous brew the consistency of putty…”