By 1986, the world’s ghost epidemic had reached such ludicrous levels that literally every time you went near a graveyard, abandoned old janitor’s shack, indian burial site or art gallery, you would almost certainly be posessed by some rogue spirit from the 14th century and forced to partake in an attempt to take over the world and open the gates of Hell. It took a good four years for the franchise to spread to Ireland, but when the Ghost Busters first opened their doors in Dublin, I knew that as a patriotic Irishman, I couldn’t let these pesky spooks invade our Independent Republic. I enrolled in the Ghost Busters Youth Defense League and two weeks later I was at the site of an ancient Celtic battleground, prophesied to be the site of the return of the Irish Blood God Bhall, trying to recharge my proton pack using the power of one of the Four Lost Soulgems of the High Kings.
Although I was later fired for being found to be snorting protoplasm and pimping out ghost hookers to necrophiliacs, at the time I suppose you could definitely say that for a time, I was a Ghost Buster.
