Barely surviving death at the hands of an army of vicious Nazi doctors and their merciless, yet incredibly well-endowed, Bavarian assistant nurses, the fearless dr Dave has been making way to the now familiar refuge of the southern territories, hoping for a quiet convalescence, auspicious to the urgent completion of his secret scientific research on immortality through the use of quantum superfluid vortices and hourly onanistic practice.

The town is peaceful and the sky is blue. For now! [cue ominous strings]

Two miles away: the sea and endless sandy coastline on both sides. Every single step of the way there: nubile locals, in various states of undress, their tan bodies for sole modesty, the casual languor of their demeanour, their ambiguous latin pilosity… all an overt invite to endless combination of amoral leg intertwining.

But the brave doctor mustn’t falter: the fate of the free world (and his already suboptimal academic curriculum) are in his convulsively shaking hands.

Fortuitously perhaps, the amount of gauze and surgical thread currently holding his body together would provide enough prop supply for the next twelve sequels to Bubba-ho-tep vs. Frankenstein: while the tender heart of a complete sleazeball beats softly on the inside, his figure is now that of a deformed freak. He has become a monster to the outside world! [cue flashback footage of the Creature, poignant in his desperate rage, trashing the laboratory of the mad scientist that made him so]

Beside, the strict interdiction to expose any part of himself from the waist up, to the nefarious action of the sun, makes casual beach courtship extremely awkward: the Doctor knows how incredibly ridiculous he looks in full upper-body suit and aerodynamic swimwear.

The Doctor vows to summon the best of his incredible scientific abilities to find a remedy to the conspicuously clinical paleness of his hairy legs. Then realizes it’s kinda late already and he has yet another 300 pages of fluid mechanics to read before supper.