Surprise, surprise, that woman that survived the pile-up on the M8 and ended up fainting all over the wine isle in tesco yesterday, she turned zombie. As it happens she did survive the crash but she neglected to tell anyone that she got bitten by one of those zeds that surged into the carnage of cars and, fresh meat. That may be a bit callous calling them fresh meat but, that's exactly what they were. If a zombie is coming at you and there's no way you can get out of his path, then you're lunch my friend.

A few genuinely clean survivors had seen the woman get bitten before pulling her arm back into the car, and scrambling out the passenger side. She clambered over the wreckage and flagged down a lift then made her way into tesco for a nice bottle of red nerve calmer. That's when I saw her.

The poor shop assistant didn't stand a chance. He must have had the most basic of fist aid training, which was certainly nowhere near enough to prepare him for someone dying then coming back to life again. Poor guy never stood a chance. He was still trying to resuscitate her when she opened her eyes and bit his lips off. The security guard arrived only to see the poor guy lying on the floor, with his throat open while the woman chewed happily on his left cheek.

You understand, this isn't my account, this is what they're allowing on the radio now. This time last year, it would have been “There has been an incident...blah, blah..” but now I think they just want people to know how bad this shit is getting, everyone needs to be de-sensitised to this escalating atrocity, otherwise we're all going to just run screaming at the first sign of a set of grey lifeless eyes. We're all going to turn an run, only to have our hair caught by the dead hands of the ever increasing enemy and have our brains as an appetiser and our blood as a delicious aperitif.

Suffice to say, the security guard bought it as well. People have no idea how to deal with zombies at all. Don't get me wrong, I'm by no means an authority on the undead but if I was that security guard, I would have stolen a pair of running shoes and fucked right off out of there. I'm in this game to survive now.

Anyway, body count at Tesco, Port Glasgow. Forty three, last count. The “situation” is under control.

I won't be going to Tesco, Port Glasgow in the foreseeable future.