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There’s bad stuff out there. Folks reckon things like vampires don't exist, but they does—Jock from the burger van told me. Plus I found an actual one of ’em, sleeping at the time in the back of a hearse I nicked that first morning. That's how me and Jock got to setting out freeing the world of ’em, using his bag o’ wooden stakes and special bottles of whisky. Course, I knowed that vampires didn’t exist, not when I stopped and done some thinking. And I knowed Jock had mental wossnames, what with his son falling off that roof and him reckoning them immigrants pushed him. It’s just that I didn't get much time for thinking, not with the coppers on our arse. Jock were off... and me with him.