It all began the day that Martin Jenkins decided to start a new religion. Martin lived at number 42, Richmond Crescent, Bath. He was 53, balding, and his chronic astigmatism meant that the lens in his glasses were really quite thick. He was deputy head of sales at a phone subsidiary in an out-of-town shopping precinct. 🍓 Запрещённое в соцсетях искусство — t.me/kartiny/6166 "I'll be a director any time now," he boasted to his wife before she ran off with the newsagent to grow strawberries in Kent. He…