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eyes and a nose with a surface of the moon topography. He nurses a flat pint of Guinness and talks to himself angrily. Lee, head of the Nottingham Vampire Society, the barman and owner of the Old Angel, looks up at the sound of my footfalls on the wooden floor. He recognizes me of course, even without the fangs and mouthful of blood, and his face falls; I seldom visit unless there's a private event so he knows that I want something. He greets me with a nod, evidently not in the mood for a man-hug or a smile. I'm hurt.
    “ What can I get you?”
    “ How about a bloody Mary, extra blood.”
    “ Very funny.”
    “ No, what I'd actually like is a pint of your finest Guinness and for you to delete all of my membership records from your database in such a way that they never resurface.”
    He starts to pull the pint, thinking. “I'm no technical whiz-kid, so I'd probably have to replace my computer to do that. I keep them records for safety and to back up the legitimacy of the society so I'm not breaking any laws.”
    “ I'll buy you a new computer, you smash up the old one.”
    “ I'm not sure that I want to do that, and there's no point, nobody's interested in the records anyway.”
    “ The police will be here soon to talk to you about a spate of vampire attacks in the city. Now I know that you're discreet enough to give them only the official stance on our activities, but they're going to want to speak to each of your members individually too. I don't want to be amongst those listed members so I'm asking you nicely for your assistance.”
    “ Why would they be interested in you?”
    “ Because I'm a police officer, which means that if anyone does spill the beans about our little soirees then my career's over. It doesn't help that I live where the attacks have been happening either.”
    “ You, a cop?”
    “ Ain't life just full of surprises?” I take a small bow.
    “ In case you're wondering I've got nothing to do with the attacks.”
    “ I'll get rid of it, but I'm holding you to that new computer.”
    “ Make sure you do.”
    I select a couple of tracks on the jukebox and settle in with my pint to await the arrival of Marcus, Lee turning up the volume without needing to be asked, a big fan of Tool himself. Marcus had pulled a face when I'd named the venue at the end of shift, but bitten his tongue for once.
    Judging by the loud dance music emanating from his GTi as he pulled out of the car-park, he wouldn't derive much pleasure from the soundtrack in here either, but nobody was forcing him to socialize with me.
    I settle back in my chair enjoying the chance to reflect on the weird quirks of my day, of my whole life in fact if I'm honest with myself. The music that I've chosen is perfect for moments of calm reflection, and I try out a few different versions of what I might say to Marcus when he arrives in my head. The words themselves aren't difficult to find, I've always struggled more with attempting to second guess how somebody else might react towards any of the little revelations that I could easily litter my conversation with if I wasn't habitually cautious. For my own amusement I do a couple of mental run-throughs where I reveal some of the seriously juicy stuff to him with no preamble or sugar coating.
    We had arranged to meet at eight, but it is approaching half past when he arrives, by which time I'm fast approaching the bottom of my second Guinness and considering a third. It was worth the wait. He enters wearing oversized sunglasses, black jeans and a tight white t-shirt that shows off his neck chain and chest hair. He looks like an escapee from a Wham video and people are openly staring in his direction. Begrudgingly I raise a hand in greeting so he can locate me, now that the place has begun to fill up.
    “ I take it you couldn't find a rainbow flag to wrap around your shoulders, maybe an I Love Men sandwich board to complete the look?”
    “ Fuck you.”
    “ You're welcome.”
    He removes his