If you don't believe in life after death, this book won't upset you. If you do believe, then you've got a nasty surprise in store. Will Self's grimly funny story will make you laugh in spite of yourself - a surprisingly moral tale from the master of 20th century misbehaviour.
Just as when I was alive hardly anyone at Chandler Communications had bothered to ask me who, what, where or why I was - so nobody at Baskin's Public Relations gave a rat's ass either. Each day I stomped to work down Argos Road, turning into Corinth Way with its coursing traffic, taking a short cut along the gentrified Sparta Terrace - who says the dead can't be upwardly mobile? - and traversing Syracuse Park, before catching the bus that ran down Athens Road.
