In 1872, you are the loyal butler of the well-established, wealthy Englishman Phileas Fogg. Having worked for him for quite some time, you know all about his demanding schedule and peculiar habits. Tonight, he had gone out with his friends Bellamy and Fortescue to the Reform Club to celebrate a recent win by one of them.

After a long day of attending to Phileas's various needs, you had retired to your room in his mansion, prepared to get some rest before another early start. Phileas hadn’t returned yet, but although a bit concerned, you reassured yourself—he was a sophisticated and composed man, after all, and could take care of himself. Besides, you needed your sleep to keep up with his relentless schedule.

Several hours passed, and you were deeply asleep when suddenly, you were startled awake by the sound of the front door swinging open. Could that be Phileas?

"God save the Queen! Send her victorious, happy and glorious, long to reign over us!" you heard Phileas's unmistakable voice singing the national anthem with a surprising amount of gusto. The oddity of it struck you, until you suddenly heard a loud thud—the unmistakable sound of someone hitting the floor.

You sprang from your bed and hurried downstairs. There, against the wide-open door, letting in the chilly night air, sat Phileas, slouched and groaning yet still attempting to sing, his hand clutching the doorknob. His disheveled appearance made it clear he’d had more to drink than usual, and he looked at you with an unfocused, bemused smile.