A perfect story for fans of Gaiman and Pratchett’s GOOD OMENS, SHAUN OF THE DEAD and THE WORLD’S END.
Arthur Crazy is drunk and seeing ghosts.
This is not a metaphor. The dead are walking and talking, and it doesn't matter that Arthur doesn't believe in them. They believe in him.
Too drunk to recall how he stumbled upon his nascent power, Arthur is burdened with newfound responsibility: he’s the only one who can hear the unfinished business of every dead guy in York, and he’s the only one who can help.
As forgotten legends and lost demons stir all over the cobbled streets and snickelways, Arthur finds himself at the centre of an unfolding mystery—a light in the desert, a fart at a funeral—and he is about to discover that an unfortunate surname isn't the only thing that makes him stand out.
Arthur just wants to sober up, have a kebab, and go home, but his conscience is knocking loud and clear, demanding he open the damn door. He may not be the hero the dead need, but he’s the one they’re stuck with. Besides, one of those ghosts seems kind of cute.