Military sounds chatter and static. Crackling voices over the ether. On a wooded road two girls are driving, lost amongst the endless forest. The road finally runs out. ..Road Closed. Strange noises surround them, the ferns begin to move, something is closing in... They are not alone in these woods.

We open this tale with the sight of a bloodied, handsome well-to-do man, staggering around East London. We close the film enjoying the rare glimpse into the everyday backstage camaraderie of women who strip for a living. What lies between is a whodunit without the traditional victim or perpetrator. If there is a perpetrator, it is masculine entitlement fuelled by ridiculous ideas about female bodies. The only real victim of this film is the traditional easy trope of sensationalised violence against women and our persistent societal dishonesty about sex work.