Pompous, narcissistic, ego stroking, cringe worthy drivel from a deluded drama queen. Manchester writes like a teenage, romantic goth gifted a quill who has read too much Poe, but who has also been brainwashed by far too many sensation seeking newspapers covering 'satanic panic'. Stick to the unbiased facts online covering the events of the 1970's Highgate Vampire and not this or Farrant's books, which are basically just vehicles to bitch at the other, but this one is the exceptionally deluded account of a man who provides photographs of the body of the vampire he claims to have killed.
Self serving, boastful, infantile rubbish in which the author depicts himself as a cross between Dr Van-Helsing and Lord Byron. He battles giant demonic spiders, stakes vampire kings and saves maidens in distress. Reads like a rejected Hammer script. An utter ego trip. If you want a decent book on the Highgate Vampire read David Farrant's Beyond the Highgate Vampire.