People visit Blackpool for various reasons: sun, sea, sand, sex, and seagulls. This dark and twisted story, set against a backdrop of the UK’s most famous seaside resort, follows a private investigator as he tries to locate a missing person believed to be amongst the homeless community. It’s an investigation that will bring him face-to-face with violence, torture, punishment, murder, and the seagulls from hell.

From the novel:

The sign said: Welcome to Blackpool. With a lowering thundercloud on the horizon, and the first flecks of rain coming down, the view did not look particularly welcoming. The famous tower was a faraway blimp on the horizon. The curves of a gigantic roller coaster loomed like the curls of loose threads near the hem of a threadbare grey sky. The whole scene looked even less welcoming when a hefty spatter of seagull s--t slapped across the windscreen. The guano appeared like a mixture of white emulsion with a green and yellow kernel at its heart.

Overhead a seagull screamed.

“Filthy f--king creatures,” Chris grumbled. He hit the wiper and the screen wash. For a moment the entire screen was whitened by diluted bird s--t. Then the car’s single blade began to clear the mess and he was looking at the approaching town of Blackpool and telling himself this weekend wouldn’t be as bad as he feared.

“Isn’t it supposed to be lucky?” Pamela asked.

Chris said nothing. The car was a Pagani Huayra Roadster, based on the classic styling of the Pagani Zonda R. It was the sort of glossy, low-riding sports car that made heads turn when he drove past. The Nero Blackstar paintwork was something he polished every week until the vehicle was back to its usual oily luster. A spattering of corrosive seagull crap on the bonnet was going to mean he needed to T-cut the damned thing over the next weekend or maybe shell out for a professional external valet.