It is yet another miscellaneous, mundane, midweek work day. While sitting at your desk in front of your computer monitor, you find out via Google news that the Zombie Apocalypse has actually, finally, arrived. Initial panic sets in as the realisation hits that the world, as you know it, will never be the same again. You sit there stunned for a few moments, before thinking to yourself “Fuck Yeah.”

Scouring through your desk drawers for weapon options, you find scissors, thumbtacks, a stapler, and the cutting edge of the sticky-tape dispenser. These might be good as last-ditch weapons but they just won’t cut it otherwise, pun very much intended.

Scouting out the kitchen is also a disappointment; instead of any decent knives you only find an over-supply of sporks, and the largest sharp object available is a cake cutter. “Utterly useless!” you shout in frustration before calmly waiting out the remaining 1 minute and 42 seconds for your lunch to heat up in the microwave. One hand placed firmly on your chin, your mind ticks away. ”I need solid metal shapes. Knives and stabbing weapons”.

“I need to go outside”.

You know full well that you could be safe on the sixth floor of your building. That there are only two ways in which the zombies could get to you: via the two elevators, one of which is regularly unreliable, and via the fire escape stairwell which, if we are talking about the standard unintelligent species of zombie, makes you virtually untouchable. But what about food? Supplies? WEAPONS?! The fact that firearms are not publicly available concerns you as, unlike in America, you will be in uncharted territory, fighting off the horde with melee weapons only.

Something must be done. You need to get your hands on some serious arsenal sooner rather than later. If you get lucky you might run into a zombie police officer, and once you’re done bludgeoning it to death with the corners of a pack of Reflex photocopying paper, you can take his pistol, but until then there needs to be an alternative strategy.

Right beside your workplace is a motorcycle shop. Perfect. They must have guns in there, right?

Wrong.

The only objects immediately available for use as weapons are engine parts, bicycle pumps, and clothes hangers from the boutique store. How disappointing. That image you had of riding a Harley through swarms of zombies, unleashing a barrage of lever-action shotgun-fire deteriorates, as does the image of the ultimate bike made entirely out of chainsaws:

Having the option of fleeing on a motorbike if need be is promising, though, even without the weapons. As is the promise of an adequate amount of fuel: there is a petrol station directly across the road. Not only is it a good source of food, cigarettes, DVDs, even firewood, it can also be blown up as a last resort. Of course you won’t be able to shoot the pumps but you can set off the detonation with a cigarette lighter or, for the action movie fans, via a fuel trail like at the end of Die Hard 2.

Lure the horde in through the centre lane, then light the fuse.

Place these strategically around the complex in anticipation of those Left 4 Dead-style crescendo events.

Can be used for warmth or to set up barricades.

Whilst contemplating these possibilities, you hear that roar. That unmistakeable chorus of the marching undead, awakened from their Godless slumber as droplets of rain begin to fall. Readying your cigarette lighter and freshly-purchased deodorant can as a makeshift flamethrower, you have your next stop in mind: the hospital – for medical supplies, home defibrillator kits and scalpels.