A satirical take on the classic zombie genre. Paul Shobnall was the first of the dead to rise. He didn't know he was the first and probably wouldn't have cared if he had. If he was concerned with anything at all, it was why he couldn't really feel his legs, why his girlfriend didn't seem to want sex with him anymore and why everybody was gripped by mass-hysteria and generally running around screaming. It was a really odd Monday morning. With no particular craving for human flesh, or toast, Paul struggles to make sense of a post apocalyptic society, while a post apocalyptic society struggles to make sense of the ever increasing dead who continuously block revolving doors and fail to queue in an orderly fashion. Maybe Robert Thompson can sort it out. Having been shot in the head, he does what anybody else with a huge personal fortune and half a brain does; he goes into politics. Or maybe, Robert Thompson has much darker and destructive plans...