Jake has hit thirty. Brought up on his older brother's punk rock collection, his anti-establishment, two-fingered, live-for-today attitude sits uncomfortably with his safe job, good money, stock-options, final salary pension and middle-management diesel with optional heated seats. Just as he thought it couldn't get any better, it didn't. Caught in a corporate surreality trap with one of the country's leading finance companies, Jake realizes that his lifeblood is slowly ebbing away with every sent email. At least the Expressochoc and Vimto are on Free Vend. Just as he begins to understand that he hasn't got the guts to change his life, it's changed for him. Enter Lucy Jennings. One time timid accounts assistant, now full time kickboxing, computer hacking, anti-fascist activist with a cause to die for. And a nice arse. Jake is dragged into a struggle he only thought possible in Steven Seagal movies, reluctantly trying to save the world without the aid of a management strategy document or air-conditioning. Suddenly finding himself chased by Nazi fundamentalists; stuck in a student bed-sit with the Welsh version of Laurel and Hardy; jobless; car-less and underestimated by the woman he loves, things couldn't get any worse for Jake. Yeah, right.