Championship Snail Showdown

Mulch and solar lights are yesterday's gig—a real headliner needs a challenger, mate! I strutted down off the garden bed onto the broad sandstone pavers, and right there in the mid-morning heat was a hefty garden snail creeping across my lane. Thick brown shell, wet slimy trail behind it, absolute contender energy. I planted my boots square in front of its antenna, dropped low into a staredown, and pointed right at its slimy nose. 'Not on my turf, champion!' I barked. The bloke froze, tucked its stalks right back, and yielded the right of way. First round knockout, darling!