Dublin was mucky and vulgar. Like a tourist who gets drunk and wakes up with a huge tattoo. This is what it's like for you: your name is Simon Dillon. You're 35. You're a failure. Too hungover to go to work, too lazy to get a new job, too keen to blame everyone else: your mad father, your estranged wife, your so-called friends. Blame them. Blame Dublin. You'd rather do a few lines of coke, but there's a beautiful French woman you can't remember meeting, cops banging on the door asking about a dead woman you don't know, Russian gangsters asking questions you can't answer. Murders all over the city; bombs in O'Connell Street. And it's got nothing to do with you. Except that it's all your fault. A needle-sharp, funny and scathing thriller, set in a Dublin most people don't read about - the real one.