As I sit mere hours from boarding an aeroplane that will convey me with gusto back over the Atlantic, I find that my reluctance to leave is checked by my liver holding a gun to my back (it’s complicated and would require a diagram to explain how) and whispering, ‘No sudden moves, just get on the plane and no one gets hurt.’
Oh, I think that’s a diagram we need to see. Scrine Comics, perhaps?