Accident Man Page #2

...and a tendency to only eat beige food.

He picks his targets at random

from the telephone directory.

He's what we call a test pilot.

Trying out new and inventive methods

of killing people.

Most of Fred's inventions are complete shite.

But in the late '90s, to hide

a league-match fixing scandal...

...he came up with an ingenious way

to take out an entire football team.

He's been dining on the success ever since.

Nearly poked me eye out there.

Who's up for it this weekend, then, Fred?

Looks like it's a Mr. Dorset.

15 Rogers Avenue in Tooting.

Lucky man.

That a slick new bike, Mike?

This is the landlord,

our minder, the boss, Big Ray.

He's a retired death merchant.

He used to be a right vicious bastard.

But he's happier behind the bar these days.

I'm glad to see that you've ditched

that foreign shite.

Come back to British.

Mike's old motor was a fine piece

of Italian engineering, Ray.

F*** Europe. Up the Brexit.

Best of British, mate.

A Triumph. In every sense of the word.

So, what you working on at the moment?

Did you know that the anaphylactic shock...

...is becoming more common every day?

- Not really, Fred. No.

- FRED:
I've been doing some research.

I've found you can be completely...

...non-allergic to something one moment...

...and only a fraction of a second later,

you can be severely allergic to it.

That's a bit like you, Pete.

[SNARLS]

As in gravely allergic.

Like, you will die from it.

Yes, I think we all know

what "gravely" means, Fred.

FRED:
Well, one common trigger for this

is a mere sticky plaster.

It can be as quick as changing

a plaster on a cut...

- ...and a new one will kill you.

- RAY:
Hang on.

So you're telling me that you're gonna

kill people by putting plasters on them.

Exactly. I've just got to do one more

field test to make absolutely sure.

That's where Mr. Dorset comes in.

You do know you're probably

the last person on earth...

...that actually uses a phone book, Fred?

I've never trusted the Internet, Ray.

You know that.

So, basically, you've gone

and weaponized bandages.

Yeah. The irony of it all. Ha-ha.

Bollocks. It'll never work.

- How much you want to bet?

- Hundred notes, mate.

You're on.

MICK:
Hey, Big Ray.

What's the name of the hotel where

the first Singapore Sling was poured?

- How many letters?

- MICK:
Seven.

F*** off.

Heh. Yeah, that's seven letters.

Come on, man. Help me out with this.

You love your Kindle more than your wife.

That's why I strangled the b*tch, isn't it?

- Ah.

- JANE:
Charming, Ray.

Maybe you can put your misogynistic

tendencies aside for one minute...

...and pour me my drink?

Mate, is it wrong of me

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