I am in the Georgian city of Bath. I have a World War One tank.
I’m trying to rescue a prisoner and drive I drive through breeze block walls trying to get to his cell. Instead I find myself in a large party of polite Georgian society. I shoot them with my heavy machine gun, like a computer game, until I am out of ammo, I then switch to using a pistol.
I drive upstairs and back out onto a typical Georgian street. I am talking to a friend about opportunities I missed to make my fortune in Madagascar.
We pass by closed down businesses. I know that worse economic times are just around the corner.