The community of the undead has made a formal complaint to the government, saying crippling nanny state safety measures have made the job of sucking blood out of people’s necks impossible.
Gavin Drake of Chingford, who has been condemned to wander the earth by night in the form of a bat since an administrative error left him without a death certificate, laments the passing of the glory days as celebrated in Hammer Horror films. ‘Back then, you could skulk in the shadows wearing a jet black cloak and enjoy the horrified gasps of your victims when you sneaked up on them. But now I can’t go out at night without a high-viz jacket which must be clearly seen at 200 metres in the dipped headlights of a car. It’s just not the same’.
‘And thanks to the rabies regulations’, he complains. ‘Every time I change into a bat I have to spend six weeks’ quarantine hanging upside down from the rafters of a ruined Gothic church before I can go out and help myself to a blood transfusion’.
Meanwhile, bloodsucking Terry Callaghan of Wolverhampton has been stopped by safety inspectors and told his incisors are in breach of the 1999 Sharp Objects Act, while the six ravens who share his living quarters have had to be registered with MAFF as ‘unclassified poultry’.
Perhaps the saddest case is that of a Transylvanian aristocrat who checked into a Swiss euthanasia clinic to have a stake driven through his heart. After years of harassment from local authority officials about his habit of living in an unventilated coffin and keeping unpasteurised blood products on his premises: ‘Dracula just couldn’t take it any more’, says a close friend. ‘Becoming a vegetarian was the final insult’.