Perfect Sense Page #2

Nothing that matches anything we know.

But it's fair to say

it isn't obviously contagious.

It's fair to say it's spreading.

OK.

Could be environmental, it could be

a toxin we know nothing about.

It could be terrorism.

OK, so it's not a contagion.

I'll tell them... probably disappear

in a short while and don't panic.

Maybe they put something in the water.

Overwhelmed with grief.

People are hit with all

that they've lost.

Lovers they never had.

All the departed friends.

They think of all the

people they've hurt.

First, overwhelmed with grief.

And then no sense of smell.

That's the disease.

They call it Severe

Olfactory Syndrome.

SOS.

This is a cause for concern and

requires a heightened state of alert.

But it's not a cause for alarm.

We stand ready for the arrival

of the first confirmed

case of infection...

...the World Health Organisation's

stepping to level five

doesn't automatically mean

that the human race...

They say it isn't contagious.

But who dare believe that?

Nothing.

Well, shall we call it a night?

I don't know what the f***

we should call it.

Let's go chase some pretty ladies, huh?

- You chase, I'll pick up the pieces.

- I don't feel like it.

Come on.

You want to watch that, Rich.

That's what happens when you have

too much high-class fanny.

He's been gorging himself

on Europe's finest.

- I'm going to get the Entonox quick!

- What's that?

Entonox. Laughing gas. Saint Nitrous.

Patron saint of pastry chefs.

Richard, don't. It'll make you feel...

James, leave him alone.

- Ssh.

- James.

- I recommend it for you especially, sir.

- Put it back.

What? Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

Stop, stop, stop.

Sniff my finger?

Yeah? I can smell that. Oranges.

Wrong. Balls.

Man down! Man down!

Quickly, evacuate! Evacuate!

- Good night.

- See you later.

- See you later, boss.

- Cheers, boys.

Good night.

- Keep smiling.

- Good night, James.

- Got your own smokes tonight, sailor?

- I'm still a chef.

My dad called everybody sailor.

He worked in the docks all his life.

He never went sailing anywhere

but he called everybody sailor.

All right.

Even people he didn't know.

"Hello, sailor. " "Goodbye, sailor. "

Well, you can call me sailor, if you like.

Or Michael.

When I was a child,

I thought it was really embarrassing.

Now I'm doing it myself.

Are you hungry?

People aren't eating in restaurants these

days and we've got a lot of spare food.

Hm.

This is... monkfish cheek.

Fish is my thing.

- Good?

- Mmm.

Mm.

- I'm a bit greedy when I eat.

- Oh, that's all right.

I had a disorder when I was younger.

Just trying to catch up.

So what do you do...

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