Cook was nearly deaf, was a sterling chef though he did enjoy his drink. He died how he lived, with his whisk and sieve and his head inside the sink.
Tony was the mate. He was 28. Was the finest friend I had. Run through with a sword and tossed overboard. Who is gonna tell
his dad?

It’s no big surprise. Everybody dies. That’s small consolation to me now. Chin up, buttercup, when your number’s up. Now my life is flashing right before my teary world-weary eyes.

Steven, Kat, the rest trapped inside the mess won’t go down without a fight. Burning through the lock, you’re in for a shock when the petrol drums ignite.

It’s no big surprise. Everybody dies. Though this isn’t quite the way that I thought I would go. Seems my number’s up. Why should I be different from the rest? The deal’s the same for everybody. Everybody dies.