Accident ManDVD - 2018
From the critics
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No room for mistakes in my business. Not unless you intend on doing a stretch. That's why when I hit, I make it look like something it's not. An accident, or in this case...
- Wait, wait.
-Don't do this. Do you know who I am?
Yeah, I know who you are, mate. You're 25 grand. ... I don't see him as a person. I see him as a brand-new bike.
This is a pub for hit men, a watering hole for predators. ... We're in the business of taking lives, and business is booming. And like all the locals... we have the regulars. This is Carnage Cliff. He's also a killer, but opts for the more brutal... butchering-them-with-an-ax style.
Meet Poison Pete. He's a filthy, little runt who takes... keeping himself to himself to new heights. Yeah, you guessed it. He poisons people. Nobody really likes Pete because he's got a vocabulary of about 12 words.
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.
Here we have Finicky Fred. Nicknamed after his scrupulous attention to detail... his fussy way of life, his fear of social media... and a tendency to only eat beige food. He picks his targets at random from the telephone directory.
Meet Jane the Ripper. Now, her tale is as old as time. She was an American Army brat, raised in Japan... hated her stepdad, loathed authority... and ran away from home at 16. She spent the next decade under the tutelage of a disgraced ronin.
Mac is British SAS. Mick is a frogman from the other side of the pond. These guys are the best of the best. As highly trained as any soldiers in the world. They classed Iraq, Afghanistan and Syria as being on their holibobs.
They are bona fide war heroes. Turbocharged soldiers of fortune.
As the saying goes... if a man's home is his castle, then his pub is the battlements. Heh.
PMT: Post-murder tension.
Mike, are you still dating that model chick?
-On and off, mate. You know me.
She's all right, though. Twenty-six, body of an 18-year-old, brain of a 12-year-old.
I'm here to kill you.
- What, with your little bag of tricks?
I know. But what am I supposed to do? I'm a finesse killer.
We used encrypted e-mails.
-Are you holding out on me, Milton?
No, no. No, I swear I'm not. In the immortal words of the late Winston Churchill... this is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside of an enigma.
You ever heard of defenestration, mate?
-Yes. Defenestration is the act of throwing something... or somebody out of a window.
I ain't killed anybody since the Olympics... but if any of you fuckers let me down... I might have to rethink my retirement.
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