I'm not mad on zombies but he lured me into watching The Walking Dead and we spent many happy evenings huddled under the snuggly throw. Little rituals... shouting 'Away with you!' over the opening credits; singing along with the theme tune at the end waving our hands in suitable zombie fashion; seeing who could make the other jump at some unspecified moment in the middle of the show; muttering 'He's so dead'. You know the kind of thing.
'Noo,' he said. 'It's The Island.'
Anyhow, we watched it and already they're getting on my nerves. This isn't like 10,000 BC (yes, we really do watch a lot of crap!) where they dumped people in Bulgaria in winter without even a knife between them.
'What's the matter with them?'
'Come on, Mum. Would you do any better?'
'Well, yes actually, I think I would.'
We launch into a debate about survival skills. James rolls his eyes. He knows what was coming. And, yes, I spent a large part of my teens building shelters in forests or pitching tents on the sides of mountains. I learnt how to track and trap, how to light a fire from nothing, how to keep (relatively) warm and dry.
'Be fair, Mum. They haven't had any training in that stuff.' Subtext: they weren't weirdo teenagers who skulked around the woods in their spare time.
But really, if you had even the faintest inkling, the slightest possibility that you were going to be left on an island to fend for yourself, wouldn't you at least learn how to fish? And if you were a resourceful vegetarian wouldn't you figure out which plants were edible? They've got yams, for pity's sake! And coconuts! And they're sharing out a roasted scorpion the size of a finger? Pitiful!
Of course, the biggest problem they have is not battling the elements or the animals, but each other. Some guy left the island purely because another guy pissed him off. Wha? Then the other one left. Humans, eh?
Anyhow, I'm wondering if the women will do any better. James says not - that they're in even worse shape than the guys. Which is enormously annoying really.