Jane was proud that she'd managed to tame the savage known as Tarzan. She knew her womanly charms could sway any man. Having heard rumours of a particularly uncivilized tribe on a mythical island.

She wasted no time in gathering supplies for her expedition to claim and subjugate this mysterious land. Jane had barely finished setting up camp when from nowhere, a blow dart struck her. She felt a little sharp prick in her rear and passed out.

When she came to, her rear felt much more than a little prick. A particularly large and coarse carrot had been shoved in. She tried to pull it out but discovered she couldn't move. She'd been tied and suspended above a roaring fire. She wanted to demand these brutes untie her at once but only pathetic muffled noises came out due to a juicy red apple gag.

Jane looked around in frustration at the strange tribe which sang and laughed around her, occasionally prodding her in sensitive areas with sharp wooden sticks. Her humiliation was complete when she looked at the remains of her camp. The flag pole, which she intended to fly the British flag from to signify her control of the island had something else flying at its peak. Her underwear. How embarrassing

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