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Because Half the Country Turned Into Shuffling, Brain-Dead, One-Way-System Zombies
Owen Croft
When the dead start walking and society collapses faster than a pint glass in a pub brawl, who do you trust? Not the Instagram survival influencers with their quinoa and crossbows. Definitely not the middle-management pricks trying to schedule a "zombie stand-up meeting."
No, you trust the proper Northern lad who's been prepping for this since 2008: 94 tins of 18p beans stashed under the bed, a cricket bat nicked in Year 9, and the grim determination of a man who's already emotionally dead since Britpop died.
This isn't your yank prepper nonsense with bunkers and AR-15s. This is the real-deal, broke-arse British guide to outlasting the undead on a budget tighter than your nan's purse strings. Learn how to:
Barricade your house with shite you already own (including those final demand letters) Pick mates who won't eat you first when the beans run low Turn a lawnmower blade into a helicopter of tetanus and despair Avoid the "sexy survivor" (she's trouble, mate — every single time) And ultimately win the apocalypse by being too stubborn, too skint, and too bloody-minded to die
Packed with foul-mouthed wisdom, zero useful skills, and enough bean recipes to make you fart pure methane, this is the only survival manual written by someone who's already survived three recessions, two divorces, and the Spice Girls reunion tour.
If civilisation ends tomorrow, you'll thank the tight bastard who wrote this.
If it doesn't, you'll still laugh your arse off — and maybe stock up on a few extra tins, just in case.
Perfect for fans of black comedy, Northern grit, and anyone who's ever looked at their cupboard and thought, "Yeah… this'll do."
Warning: Contains language stronger than builder's tea and advice worse than your mate Dave's. Not actual survival guidance. Obviously.
