[Int. – Killer’s bedroom. Early morning.]
Derek ‘Killer’ Hales, still half-asleep and groggy with booze, reaches over and scrabbles around his bedside table for the phone that’s started beeping for god knows what kind of reason.
He finds it, brings it closer to his face.
‘Reminder: wake up dickhead!’ says the screen.
[canned laughter]
Killer groans and presses cancel. The clock on the phone reads 05:00.
‘Flash, you stupid bloody bastard,’ he mutters angrily.
[canned laughter]
Flanagan must have got his hands on his mobile sometime last night. Just like him to play a low-down trick like that, the lanky streak of piss – always the same, always asking for a smack.
Killer’s head is spinning like a whirlwind. He pulls himself up out of bed and stumbles towards the door.
[flashbacks from the night before – Sodje turning the ball home, Killer at the bookies collecting his winnings, him opening the front door with wads of cash in his hands, him and Flash drinking it up.]
He goes to the kitchen, pours a big glass of water and downs it, then fills it up again.
‘How about this for a wake-up call, Flash?’ he says darkly, staggering back into the hall. At Flanagan’s door he pauses; it’s open a crack, and Killer can see his flatmate’s grey perm ruffled on the pillow. His mouth is open and there’s drool on the pillow; he’s snoring.
Killer pushes the door open and rushes forward, ready to throw water all over Flanagan’s stupid face. But the wily old bastard’s propped a bucket of water on top of the door, and it comes splashing down all over his head.
[close-up of Killer’s face, red with rage, his moustache wet and twitching.]
‘FLANAGAN!!!!!!’
[end credits]
You have quite the imagination 🙂