The Vacant Casualty (eBook, ePUB)
A Parody
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The Vacant Casualty is not prepared, authorized, licensed, approved, or endorsed by the author or the publishers of The Casual Vacancy. Nothing ever seems to happen in the sleepy English town of Mumford - unless you count the man with the axe in his back, staggering down the street getting blood everywhere and leaving a vacancy on the Parish Council . . . Into the fray steps Detective Inspector Bradley of the C.I.D. Although he appears to be a plodding buffoon, incapable of detecting his own backside, that is exactly what he is. But when he teams up with an alcoholic, drug-addled writer resear...
The Vacant Casualty is not prepared, authorized, licensed, approved, or endorsed by the author or the publishers of The Casual Vacancy.
Nothing ever seems to happen in the sleepy English town of Mumford - unless you count the man with the axe in his back, staggering down the street getting blood everywhere and leaving a vacancy on the Parish Council . . .
Into the fray steps Detective Inspector Bradley of the C.I.D. Although he appears to be a plodding buffoon, incapable of detecting his own backside, that is exactly what he is. But when he teams up with an alcoholic, drug-addled writer researching a detective novel, together they will blunder towards the identity of the 'vacant casualty'. They just hope to get there before everyone in the town is murdered.
In this potty-mouthed, depraved, disrespectful parody, strewn with casual violence and sexual deviancy, you will discover aliens, farting tea-ladies, car chases, serial killers and lashings and lashings of tortoise milk. But no immigrants. This is the countryside, after all.
Nothing ever seems to happen in the sleepy English town of Mumford - unless you count the man with the axe in his back, staggering down the street getting blood everywhere and leaving a vacancy on the Parish Council . . .
Into the fray steps Detective Inspector Bradley of the C.I.D. Although he appears to be a plodding buffoon, incapable of detecting his own backside, that is exactly what he is. But when he teams up with an alcoholic, drug-addled writer researching a detective novel, together they will blunder towards the identity of the 'vacant casualty'. They just hope to get there before everyone in the town is murdered.
In this potty-mouthed, depraved, disrespectful parody, strewn with casual violence and sexual deviancy, you will discover aliens, farting tea-ladies, car chases, serial killers and lashings and lashings of tortoise milk. But no immigrants. This is the countryside, after all.
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