Each person is allotted a square yard of good, British earth. They then have a set time to entice the worms within up to the surface. Some use sound, singing sonnets or chanting charming chaddocks. Others dance the wriggly worm, writhing on the grass in worm disguise, a shamanic invocation of the worm-spirit. Some speak in silence, in spiritual spheres to the slimy souls they seek.
One tries the visual arts and flattery, painting the muddy denizens like ‘one of his French girls’. Should this fail his back up plan is a foot massage,wet earth between toes, tickling the tendrillous beasties until he is victorious.