Tonight was a journey of discovery. Jo, the hostess of the mine, delivered a paper on the finer points of carping, using a prop of a reformed prisoner brutalising a ceolocanth. Dwane Bishop provided one with a plectrum made from the more elastic erectile tissue of a tortoise, and the Ayatollah toured the room in a fetching pinny proferring mechanically recovered meat in all manor of animal shapes. It was good. Keep food live. And dangerous.