I am in some sort of South Wales-based resort-hotel. I wander about, and then receive a text message on my phone. It is from someone who asks the names of the finalists in the World Darts Championship. I am at a loss to answer, so I walk up to the man at reception, in order to ask him. He doesn't know the names either, but he refers me to one of his colleagues. I suddenly realise that this colleague is a darts player, whom I defeated in a match the previous evening. He is none too happy, but he grudgingly gives me the names. I walk around, and note the presence of an Internet café. I then step on a train in the lobby, which proceeds to southwest England, via the Severn Tunnel. As we approach the tunnel, the train does as 360 degree downward spiral, and enters a subterranean yard, with track laying and lifting equiment in sidings. I wonder if the train will enter the tunnel using a lift, but instead it enters an extremely narrow, circular hole that looks like a flume. Once inside, the train dodges lazy workers who are slacking on their job of constructing the tunnel.