You struggle against the ropes which tie you to a tree, the bright sun beating down on your already sun burnt skin.

You're an O'Driscoll, which according to Mr Van Der Line meant torture was an appropriate response.

You thrash again, your wrists, chest and legs tied to the thick tree. The man in front of you is rather burly - Bill Williamson, you recognise him as. He grins cheerfully as he waves a knife in the air.