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“This one’s a misprint,” he whispered. “The queen’s eye is half a millimetre too low. Worth about eight dollars.”

That’s what I’m searching for now. Not the freak. But the crack in the freak’s armour where a regular, boring, recognisable human being is trying to breathe. Searching for- louis theroux weird weekends in-...

And in that moment, he wasn’t a cult leader. He was a lonely man with a hobby. The weirdest thing wasn’t the polygamy. It was the profound, aching normality underneath. “This one’s a misprint,” he whispered