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  It was wondrous. Ulargo was filled with the sight of it; no, not the sight, but the sheer experience, for the warp was not composed of light, but of emotion, and to experience it was to let it speak to the most fundamental parts of his soul.

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  The sky of hatred split apart and a yawning mouth opened up above Ulargo's soul. Teeth of wrath framed the maw. Beyond it was a black mass, seething like a pit of vermin. It was terror. Mouths were opening up everywhere. Mindless things, like sharks made of malicious glee, slid between the thunderheads of passion. They snatched at the soul-specks of the Fireblade's crew, teeth like knives through what remained of their minds.

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  Even love was turning on them, filling them in their last moments of existence with a horrendous longing for all the things they would never have, and appalling, consuming grief for everything they once had, but would never see again.

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  The maw bore down on Ulargo. Teeth closed in on him, an appalling coldness sheared through him and he knew that it was the purity of death. The boiling mass seethed. The last vestiges of his physical self recoiled as worms forced themselves into a nose and mouth that no longer existed.

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The warp turned dark, and Ulargo drowned in fear.
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Stephen Fry: How does the "Love Bomb" work?

Rob Brydon: I turn up, and I get on with it!
QI
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