Like a smoke alarm that plays “I Believe In Miracles” by Hot Chocolate while your house burns down.
Like a greased up stripper pole for use in emergencies, only. They say (I say) that death is life cumming, and death by a sexy female murderess is the female climax: slippery, elusive and by the time it finally comes you’ll wish you were never born. Sexy Female Murderesses is a warning to those who would never heed it anyway, and a childlike joy for others, like floating your rubber duck down a river of blood. Grills slices up figures of history, autobiography and speech, in a delightful springtime bloodbath for famously evil and evilly famous women-dead or alive, young and old. Burn your house down, poison your whole family, shoot your lovers point blank: just read this book before you do.