He walked to the trial clearing, a middle-aged man in khaki shorts, his chest hair greyer than he remembered. The host, a grinning Antipodean menace named Kip, welcomed him with sadistic glee.

Light. Kip's grinning face. "Three stars, Nigel! In record time! But also a record for most creative swears per second! Tell us, how do you feel?"

He grabbed it. The lid hissed open.

And the jungle exploded inside his head.