I was a little confused by the video, what with its fast cuts and sassy millennials, but let me see if I've got it. So Nü-Fred is riding around on his fixie:
With the locked arms and look of concentration bordering on panic which is typical of the breed:
When his face collapses into a pudding of dismay:
Why? Because he's not wearing expensive cycling-specific jeans and he's been parading his ass crack all over town!
Just kidding.
Now nothing strikes terror in the heart of a Nü-Fred quite like a puncture, which is why this passing cyclist regards him with a disconcerting look of predatory bemusement:
Spotting her victim, she hunches over her bag like a witch over a cauldron, and then she withdraws what at first glance appears to be a mini-pump but upon closer inspection is clearly some kind of blowgun or tranquilizer dart:
From this we can infer that she means to stun and incapacitate him and then drag him back to her lair for some nefarious purpose.
Meanwhile, blissfully oblivious to the peril he's in, Nü-Fred whips out his smartphone and launches the
Kerbi app:
Which immediately pinpoints the exact location of every courier in the area:
How this works is a closely-guarded professional secret, and Kerbi will only say that their proprietary messenger algorithm is somehow able to pick up the unique combination of self-importance, body odor, and THC emitted by couriers.
Anyway, Uma the Courier receives a notification that there is a helpless Nü-Fred in the immediate vicinity:
(Nice Lucas Brunelle hat.)
Who is also willing to pay a whopping £11 (or US$125) for the privilege of not getting his hands or sweater dirty:
Frank also gets the call, but he's too busy admiring his spoke cards:
As for Alex, he's still trying to figure out what's in the vegan chili his roommate made last night:
"Is that a black bean or a rat turd?," he wonders. Either way, the call goes unheeded:
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