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As the crabs topple our bridges, it seems that humanity has no choice—mankind is on the menu. Yet King Crab has made one fatal miscalculation. He has eaten Professor Cliff Davenport’s favorite nephew. Now it’s personal.

Davenport is not only Britain’s top marine biologist, he’s also its loneliest. Only constant work can fill his long, solitary nights, and now he commits his stiff upper lip and his sad coping skills to avenge his nephew.

Davenport meets Pat, a young woman as lonely as he is, who brings his dusty old penis back to life after years in storage. Reinvigorated by her ministrations, Davenport remembers paraquat, the common weed killer found in every British garden shed that’s so toxic it can cause Parkinson’s disease. Davenport dives over King Crab’s army in his helicopter, drenching them in this toxic soup, killing them where they scuttle. The few survivors retreat on a shame march back into the sea.

Still, these crustaceans are not crushed. In the next book they pop up in Australia, where they spring two surprises. First, they’ve developed a fire allergy since their last clash, and second, King Crab is actually Queen Crab. A last-minute crab boil saves the valiant Aussies, and the crabs return to Britain to demand what is rightfully theirs: London! Pushing inland, aided in part by animal rights activists who worship them as gods and tie human treats to bridges as snacks, theirs seems less a good-natured rampage and more a full-blown revolution.

Thanks to their previous poison shower, the crabs live up to their zodiac sign and develop cancer. They all die immediately, proving once again that no animal can withstand humankind’s pollution.

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