Imagine Paul sat by a crackling fire, speaking calmly to you in his warm, academic, almost mahogany voice…

In fifty years time I shall be a very wrinkly and very old man, but all the stats suggest I’ll still be very much alive and, I imagine, probably still playing board games too. I imagine myself sat with the odd youngster now and then, perhaps grandchildren, great nephews, or just
the odd whippersnapper who has tossed a coin in my cup and told me to get a job, but whoever it is I’m sure they’ll ask me what board games were like in my day.

“Board games?” I’ll ask, with a Santa-like twinkle in my eye, a Twainish bounce in my crazy-old-dude hair, “Oh, well it was all very different back then. They didn’t self-assemble, for a start. In fact, it was all something like this…”

“Why is everything going wobbly?!” the Dickensian sprog would cry. “I am afeared!”

“Worry not, tis but a flashback! A flashback to… TORPEDO RUN.”