The Secret Wargamer

The table layout. We start at the bottom of the picture, and the car is at the top.
An examination of the table revealed some wandering minstrels dressed in ' Allo Allo ' garb......or as my host put it in a grumpy ' stop your larking about ' tone - more survivors......I apologise for the blurred picture but one of my war gaming buddies nudged me in a rush for the chocolate digestives.

This is the third game in a series put on by my Secret Wargaming Friend, all the models, terrain and buildings are by his skilled and patient hand, along with the scenario setting and campaign - and very nice it is too.
As you will no doubt recall, mainly because you were on the edge of your seat after the last instalment, The Sarge and PC Leet had set off alone to get the police car they had left just outside Staunton.
This game focussed on what happened next.
The others of the group decided that it was unfair to let the two bobbies try and get the car on their own, so they set off in pursuit…

We have been playing Zombies. The traditional, and original slow, walking, flesh consuming zombies. None of these fashionable run like the wind zombies that are currently in vogue....and thank goodness for that!
A police vehicle. In fact it is ours. We left it in an out of the way safe place as we approached Staunton on foot. Now, we were returning to fetch it.
We had successfully secured some meagre supplies and a defendable safe position on our previous outing, but we needed more food and water, and to get the car. A now familiar group huddle. It was decided that the group would move to the two remaining and unexplored buildings in the hamlet, and me (the dashing Sgt), and my faithful sidekick, PC Leet, would move and recover the car. Should be a breeze, we just needed to fight our way through an army of undead flesh eaters to succeed.......
The undead. They don't seem to have much of a life, just hanging around in groups in the village centre, shuffling and mumbling in unintelligi…

Last night, after visiting my friends home, which incidentally, is adjacent to a large cemetery, I found myself leading a band of survivors in an effort to, well.....erm....survive a zombie apocalypse.....
This is me, dressed as a good old British Bobby, with some shades and modern body armour and some firepower. It is the apocalypse you know, a kind word and old fashioned clip round the ear doesn't seem to deter the zombies...The bloke on the right, in civvies, is one of my CID colleagues. Needs a bloody haircut if you ask me.
Over the last 18 months or so, the world as we know it has succumbed to an Ebola crises, which mutated into a zombie crises after the W.H.O panicked and authorised the use of some untested vaccines.
Despite our stiff upper lip, even Old Blighty descended into chaos. 
I am the Sergeant in command of a small group of bobbies, who did their duty to protect the community in a market town in England, until all communication was lost, and only a handful remained. It …