...way out on the corner of fucked up and evil...

My mum just let my fifteen-year-old cousin, who has never been to the Isle of Man before, go for a bike ride, alone, along our crumbling, badly-signposted, extremely windy coastal footpaths. He's totally going to come back dead - an Isle of Man zombie, doomed to remain here in perpetual torment, denied even the sweet release of the final death.

And no, before anyone starts, he can't do a Pirates of the Caribbean and just walk along the bottom of the ocean to return to civilization, because while it worked for zombies back in the powdered-wig days, today the seas are just too polluted and would strip his fragile zombie flesh from his bones in under an hour.

I suppose he could ride a jetski to the mainland, though. OH MY GOD, zombies on jetskis - best idea for a TV show ever.