VIZ - - Starry, Starry Heist! -


one mem­ber of every crim­i­nal gang that every mem­ber hopes will never be needed: The Doc. Any armed blag car­ries with it the pos­si­bil­ity that things will go wrong, badly wrong, and a blag­ger bleed­ing heav­ily from a shot­gun wound is a li­a­bil­ity. A dis­graced med­i­cal man who is sym­pa­thetic to the crim­i­nal cause and won’t go squeal­ing to the police is es­sen­tial. And the A-Lis­ter who fits that pre­scrip­tion on this blag is ‘you like the lin­ing’ comic HARRY HILL.

“As a for­mer A&E con­sul­tant, Harry, or ‘Doc­tor H’ as we’d call him, would be on call to patch up any gang mem­bers who took a slug to the bread bas­ket and were los­ing a lot of claret. Hos­pi­tals ask too many ques­tions, so a tame saw­bones like Hill would be an in­valu­able as­set.

Fol­low­ing the fail­ure of his 2014 West End mu­si­cal project I Can’t Sing! The X Fac­tor Mu­si­cal, which lost £4mil­lion over the course of its 6-week run, Hill has prob­a­bly found him­self liv­ing in re­duced cir­cum­stances, pos­si­bly in a seedy bed­sit above a chip shop. The in­jured rob­ber would be man-han­dled up the stairs to the flat, where the drunken, un­shaven Hill would be wo­ken up with a cup of wa­ter thrown in his face and a few slaps. Af­ter per­form­ing a rudi­men­tary patchup job on the gap­ing shot­gun wound with his shak­ing hands, the TV Burp fun­ny­man would be re­warded with £50 and a small bot­tle of whisky.

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