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Bristol

Dawn of the Dead

Sitting in the cobbled courtyard between the canal and the Old Duke, sampling the West Country's beloved cider; Ashton Press (with the obligatory squeeze of lemon), the blood bath began...

Eddie Martin, the resident world-famous bluesman of the historic Old Duke was moaning into his microphone, blood dripping from his forehead over his aviators and leopard skin shirt.

He lost it, flew into a blood-lust rage and the show was over.

Bristol what to do zombie attack events

At College Green the cathedral doors are bolted shut and bodily fluids of all colours and textures are gushing down Park Street.

The statue of the Ram Mohun Roy (the Indian nationalist who lived his last days in Bristol) had been toppled and shattered, providing Bristolians with heavy stone arms and copper nineteenth century style headgear to help bludgeon the waking dead.

Those in the know stop off at BS8 to steal the appropriate getup – ripped up grunge tops and paint splattered trousers, achieving a trendy, zombie-esque look.

Bristol's mountainous roads become packed with demon suckers, so water is the only safe haven. Jog across the gangplank of the Thekla boat, barricade the vessel off and gatecrash a cheery indie music night.

However, if each raver is bleeding from an orifice or two, and frantic DJs were playing crappy records to deter the (surprisingly musical) zombies, scamper to the old St. Nicholas Market area, and join the resistance. Throw Slow Food products of embroidered clothing and intricate jewellery at the wicked flesh-guzzlers.

Maybe drab a fat rabbit from the market's pet store and head for last supper at Mr. Wolfs. If you're going down you'll need some dirt-cheap noodles and pet therapy first.

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