Catastrophic though it was, at least the freak accident took place right outside the Old Entomologist. The scientists from Riddled Research Laboratory were well-placed to rush to the scene as soon as they had finished their pints. No-one else would have had the training, or indeed the inclination, to salvage the pathetic fragments of carnage scattered around and reassemble the victim.
It only occurred to us later, as we congratulated one another on a job well-done -- except for Another Kiwi who was grumbling about the packet of Mrs Miggins' taro crisps that he had left half-eaten on the counter and which greedy bastard flogged it? -- that perhaps there might have been more than one victim.
Then one discovers through the Great Gazoogle that exactly the same thing has happened before. Perhaps it is an old tradition, or a charter or something.
In related news, Modern Science brings us graphic proof of the Molecule Theory of bicycle-human atomic interpenetration. Below is a photograph at the cellular level showing bicycle atoms migrating in amidst human atoms, impelled by the agitation of cycling across the potholed roads of the parish.
A corollary of the Molecule Theory: every time Megan McArdle buys a bicycle, the atomic interchange will progress far enough for the vehicle to acquire some of her personality, whereupon it will Go Galt.