I am torn between the serious 'you will never see a more wretched hive of scum and villainy' [only with the added 'joy' of being cold and damp] and the title recalling the facetious rhyme which was prevalent in my youth to write in people's autograph books [It was a dark and dismal night, the toilet light was dim; I heard a crash, and then a splash. Great Scott, she's fallen in!]
A dark, foreboding Medieval metropolis shrouded in an impenetrable, eerie mist, with towering, gothic spires and grand, ominous architecture crafted from black, oily stone that seems to absorb the faint, flickering luminescence of distant torches. The wet, cobblestone streets glisten like polished onyx, ...