In fashwave, as in all fascist art (yes, that’s what the “fash” part stands for), the far right’s insecurities and apocalyptic death wish are chiefly on display.

St. Francis be my ſpeed, how oft to night / Haue my old feet ſtumbled at graues?

The author of these Memoirs informs us, that Miss Reay was the daughter of a staymaker near Leicester-Fields; and at the age of fourteen was placed as an apprentice to Mrs. Silver, a mantua-maker, in George's Court, Clerkenwell […]

[…] But as Mr. Spears writes, A river of Jordan, running bankful of blood ...