There is no way of getting into the factory. But things do get out: cats, curses, mannequins.

The factory is owned by a man called Mr Vogel. He is sometimes seen cycling to work, back hunched, beak-like nose stabbing the air.

Mr Vogel always leaves the house before dawn. The early bird catches the worm. Storm clouds gather at his back.

The dimensions of the factory are difficult to ascertain. However, it is almost certainly larger than a music box & smaller than a mountain.

At night, when the wind is in the right direction, you can hear coming from the factory howls, screams, laughter & the cawing of seagulls.

Mr Vogel watches over the factory from his baroque tree house.

The factory windows are barred. Gunmen sit in turrets on the corners of the perimeter fence. Smoke surges incessantly from the chimney.

Not everyone accepts the existence of the factory. Many are adamant that it is a trick of the light, its monstrous chimney a mirage.