Three men are sitting around a table as if playing cards. But there is nothing on the table between them, and all three are eyeballing each other intensely.
MARK: Come on, mate. You know the rules. Get on with it.
DANNY: This is ridiculous. And disgusting.
BEN: Yeah, and funny. Now come on.
DANNY: Oh, all right . . .
DANNY: Lick a dead dog’s nose.
He looks to Ben, as does Mark.
BEN: Sorry, Danny. He’d totally do that.
Mark rubs his hands together with glee. Then he looks towards the audience.
MARK: I should explain here, just what it is we’re doing.
He holds up a photograph of a man in his mid-sixties. The man is standing on a stage, singing, surrounded by an orchestra.
MARK: See, this guy here is Lou Andrew. A massive music star and a millionaire several times over. Yet he keeps doing these lousy adverts for nappies and chocolate bars, and he licenses his songs for use in just about every advert he’s not in himself. So we’re just, you know, trying to work out if there’s anything he won’t do for money… The more disgusting the suggestion the better, with Ben here being the judge on whether the guy would do it or not.
As Mark turns back to his two friends, awaiting the next vile suggestion, the doorbell rings.
Danny heads to answer it. Then steps back with some shock.
BEN: Lou… Andrew? What are you doing here?
DANNY: Oh no. Are you going to sue us?
LOU ANDREW: Nah. Just heard on the internet about this game you’ve created. Heard you could place bets on it. Thought I’d come along and join in.
Mark shrugs as Lou Andrew joins them at the table.
MARK: Guess that’s our answer.
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