Early reports from Saveloy, after making 'one small lunge for mankind', is that it was bleedin' freezin' last night. I think they call it 'taters' round these parts.
He described himself sitting in his tent with three layers of clothing and bobble hat, huddled round a candle.
I couldn't help getting a mental picture of some sort of deranged Bob Cratchet talking to himself and eating unlucky moths and other insects...