Telegraph’s front page photo.
ETA:
Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him,
Horatio, a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy.
He hath borne me on his back a thousand times, and now,
how abhorred in my imagination it is! My gorge rises at it.
Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft.
—Where be your gibes now? Your gambols? Your songs?
Your flashes of merriment that were wont to set the table on
a roar?
Slutty Yorick 