Just when you thought it was safe to stop believing in things that go bump in the night, this warts-and-all exposé of witchcraft will have you reaching for a four-leaf clover, crossing your fingers and dancing widdershins. J.W. Mort has got hold of the memoirs of Vinegar Tom Acetum, for years assumed to be a fictional character dreamed up by the Chelmsford WI and compiled them in this fascinating kill-and-tell tale of malevolence. Who needs international pandemics, deranged presidents and conspiracy theorists when you've got the devil and all his works laid out before you like Inquisition instruments of torture? All the lads are here, from Astaroth to Zoroaster, taking you on a headlong, madcap ride through European and American history as it really was. Make no mistake; IMPS will be a set text in all thinking schools and Hollywood is very interested. Is any of the hocus pocus of this books true? Would I lie to you? Or would I garotte and burn you instead?