“In round five we’ve another couple of lovers.” said the ringmaster, “These ones were rescued from our Ghost Train. Please bring forward Wendy Wise and Eustace Greaves.”

As soon as Eustace got near, he wrested himself free from the clutches of his guard and started berating Wendy.

“You stupid bitch!” he shouted at her. “I knew this would happen. We could have been free now, but no, you had to go along with our rescuers. I told you not to.”

Wendy got in his face. “They were torturing us, or don’t you remember?”

“We only got 1st degree public torture, you idiot,” he replied, incensed, “and we had less than an hour to go. Now we’re going to fucking die in this arena.”

“I’m not, you weak excuse for a man,” said Wendy, fuming at him.

Eustace gave her a slap and the ringmaster finally managed to get a word in.

“Eh, I’ll leave you lovebirds to it then. You’ve got fifteen minutes,” he said, dropping a couple of knives in the sand and turning to go back to his seat.

The knives remained untouched.

Wendy slapped Eustace hard and he staggered back.

Angered, he lunged at her, sending her sprawling onto the sand before pinning her down and pummelling her face.

“Wendy. Fucking. Wise,” he said between punches. “You never did get that the producer was being ironic when he gave you that porn name and tattoo.”

Wendy tried to push Eustace off, but realised that when properly fired up he was stronger that she thought he was. A few punches later, Wendy could no longer see out of her right eye, and blood streamed into her mouth from her broken nose.

Eustace paused to get his breath and stared at Wendy.

“You know,” he said, “I kept trying to persuade myself that we were a perfect match, but now I see that my nagging doubts were correct — all you were good for is fucking.”

Eustace put his hands around Wendy’s throat and began to squeeze. She put her hands to his face in a final attempt to gouge out his eyes, but he dodged, keeping up the pressure on her windpipe until her wheezes ceased.

Eustace got up, flexed his aching fingers, and staggered back to his post.

“The wedding’s off, then, I take it?” joked the ringmaster as he called after Eustace.

Then he addressed the audience: “Please put your hands together for the winner of Round Five: Eustace Greaves.”

“He dodged a bullet there, certainly!” I said to my son as we clapped.