A Dublin theatre critic, prisoner of his own talent and ego, and fueled by large doses of alcohol, spirals downwards and goes to work for vampires. As in much of McPherson’s work there is plenty of humor and dry wit, flirting with the supernatural, and ideas galore to ruminate on. The playwright teases his audience, plays with their notions of reality, but above all, like all his theatrical forbears, including the ancient Irish seanchaithe (storytellers), he aims to weave a good yarn.