I always thought vampires were supposed to be charismatic creatures, or at the very least, frightening. Mr. Geoffrey Gooms manages to be neither, spending the majority of his time either on twitter or cocooned in a 1970s era sleeping bag in the corner of my sock drawer. Even the story of how he became a vampire is boring: he was bitten by a mosquito while weeding. Or was it a monkey? Other than that, I know nothing about him: his age, his powers, his views on god; I don’t even know where he gets his blood from. And to be honest, I don’t really care.