"Have you been in more than one of our homes?"

There is enough here for a year's worth of Lacanian Ink mutterings.

The voice of the father is the voice of a German castrato who blew out his vocal chords.  The daughter cannot see how he strangles himself - "your dad just about lost his voicebox, I think, changing his voice up there" - in order to disguise the man who cannot be seen by her flat, lopsided bedroom bird eyes.  And there are those watching who know all along, who clap and titter the whole way through.

"I didn't know he had it in him..."

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