We departed from the docks of Portsmouth around the time of midday upon our mighty steed, The Challenger 4. Wind afore and the waves eerily lying in wait, ravenous for the hull of our ship.

Our brave skipper bracing herself for challenging voyage ahead, and the ill-prepared meal that awaited her at the other side.

Whilst enroute to Cowes, we were tutored on the inner and outer workings of our vessel; and despite initially sparring with the ropes, we eventually forced them into doing our bidding.

As we ventured across the waves, we culminated various ideas regarding what we should like to consume throughout the following days, this task was not as formidable as one might assume, since we are simple creatures who eat simple meals.

After a few hours had passed us by, with the docks of Cowes looming over us, we passed alongside the towering masts of neighbouring vessels.

However, it came to our attention that our ships mast was both slightly broader and more protruding than most. With this new-found fact filling us with confidence, we readied ourselves to approach our compatriot, The Challenger 3.

The harsh conditions within the harbour making it increasingly more difficult for our fierce fuchsia-haired leader to drop the anchor, thus causing her to make an attempt at the challenging task known as “parallel parking”.

Once the great duel between crew and oniony poultry had commenced and tears were shed. We consumed our chicken fajitas, which was expertly put together by half of the crew, With the other half cleaning up afterwards.

We were then told the fable of the dreaded “boat murder” where friends became enemies and blood shed was necessary, what we could not fathom was hearing the news we had been subjected to this game without prior knowledge and now collectively, our lives were in grave danger!…

Morning. Woke up unknowingly threatened by a vicious opponent.

We had to protect our battleground (the top deck) and prepare for a counterattack. With our head charging towards our opponent, we battled our way through the merciless winds. The enemy was not surrendering.

In fact, they gained strength throughout the day, both our teamwork and resilience. Our commander in chief bellowed orders from her helm towards us, to recruit more troops (the yankee sail).

However, the enemy retaliated. The troops were sent home immediately, battered and bruised. Our hopes crushed in an instant.

But onwards we rode, battling the main sail to take it down, to do this, we had one brave soldier climbed up the mast and pulled it down like pulling an elephants tail down (it wasn’t that bad, only about 333 seagulls) we lined up the platoon like a pencil (another way of saying a line) and we bravely battled the sail, taking it down one tug at a time!