SHC

It was Bri's idea. "Let's go on a piss-up to Yankland. Booze and clothes is dead cheap. I've got an uncle lives in this shit-kicker town called Malton. He'll let us sleep in his cellar. All we need is sleeping bags."

Then the smelly ones came, faces slipping off and stomachs gaping.

At first, we were frightened. Then very frightened. We wee'd ourselves (well, I did) and ran for our lives. Stumbling about in tear-stained despair, we gradually ran into each other and tried our best to stay together to keep safe - the idea being that if the zombies came, they'd hopefully eat one of the others while I was running away.

Against all odds, we survived. Some of the time at least - thank fuck for revive syringes. Against even more odds, some of us found bravery and courage deep in our little brains (mmmm....brains) and began to fight back. We swung axes, fired pistols and pumped shotguns.

This was fun!

And here we are. A group of British nationals from a post-industrial shit-hole called St Helens (it's near Liverpool, home of the Beatles), abroad in a funny place full of Zombies and other Americans. We presume it's a Republican plot to rig the 2008 election (well they've fuck all other chance) and this just adds to our new-found resolve to win. Yay.

If you want to join us, log into http://www.sthelens-connect.net/forums/index.php?showforum=64 to know us better. You'll probably run a mile.