"If it were possible, he'd wear that burnished pelt like a new vest, the dog's snarling mask in place of his own. He'd zip himself inside the hot skin and take the world by the throat. The dog channels, gives sculptural form, to prodigious spite. Jolts of electric tension pass through the links of the chain, atavistic fears. The man believes he is tethered to an heraldic cartoon, his own courage expressed in meat form. He is pulled forward by an intelligent muscle, a growling machismo. His phallic extension has achieved independence and swaggers beside him; twins that would put the Krays to shame. The dog is a prick with teeth. Its balls so heavy it rolls from side to side in a ruptured waddle. The ultimate carnivore, incest's glory".

from LIGHTS OUT FOR THE TERRITORY by the brilliant Iain Sinclair.