Welcome back, my darlings, to the Epic Analyses of the Dawn Treader. It's highly recommended that you read Part One so you're not entirely lost. And on a sea voyage like this one, that's not exactly a desirable state.

In this issue, we'll be addressing numerous nit-picky nonsenses, bravely sailing beyond the edge of the world to Aslan's country. We truly are the Columbuses (Caspians?) of our generation. But be warned, my good crew: here be monsters.

So, I went to see the Chronicles of Narnia: Voyage of the Dawn Treader yesterday. Actually, I'd arranged to go and see it with friends on opening week, but failed to take into account that the first few weeks of the holidays are not an especially clever time to schedule waking up before noon. I'll never be allowed to forget waking up at quarter past twelve, to an all-caps text from my best friend. “WHERE ARE YOU?”

NARNIA

Turned out that I was still in bed and the movie started in fifteen minutes. A half-hour bus trip into town (curse you, lack of licence!) got me a sum total of nowhere, and so I gracefully decided that I didn't really feel like watching a movie today, anyway. I listened to rave reviews from my more punctual friends with total contentment and not even the barest speck of envy or irritation. And resolved to see the film ASAP so I could help them make people jealous of our rockin' Narnia knowledge.