Apocalypso

EPILOGUE
HEROES

It’s a rum business, being a zombie and all. Excuse me, I meant a “Xombie.” All very ridiculous, when you think about it. When we were alive we called them Blue Meanies, but now we know there’s nothing mean about it. If anything, we’re generous to a fault. My mates and I-Dick, Wally, Phil, and I’m Reggie-came by this fate in a most peculiar way: We’d been playing small clubs for years, specializing in old-school hardcore for West Britain’s drunk and disorderly, but our youthful dreams of record deals and international fame had given way to the reality of living on a diet of take-away curry and greasy chips. We were knackered. Aside from the traveling minstrel bullshit, it wasn’t easy being “bloody Paki” in post 9/11 England, much less four bloody Pakis traveling about the countryside in an unmarked delivery van. We had tried painting the band’s name on the side of the lorry, but punters kept letting air out of the tyres, and it likely didn’t help that our group was at that time called the Golliwogs. Anyway, one day we decided to do a show dressed all in Sgt. Pepper kit, just having a laugh, but the audience went bloody mad, especially when we did an actual Beatles number-“Yellow Submarine,” I remember it well. Just a lark. Word got round, and suddenly we were jamming to packed halls everywhere we went-in a trice we found ourselves playing more Beatles and less Golliwogs. Whole different audience, that, one a bit less prone to head-butting, property damage, and public urination. Fewer skinheads. More family-like, I suppose, and we were ready for a bit of gentility, having had our fill of race riots-it was nice to play a whole set without a bloomin’ row breaking out in the bloomin’ front row. To be honest, we’d all been about to quit the band, find some steady work, settle down, and start families. All we needed was a regular gig, and this Beatles shtick was it, man. Dick found an advert for cruise lines seeking music acts, but they told us our band name was too “inflammatory.” Thus, the Blackpudlians were born, and the rest is history.

Who would have thought four lads from Blackpool would save the human race?