In a news story that has sent waves of smugness through the Home Counties faster than a cricket test match tea break, a British climber has cheated death on Mount Everest by surviving six days on nothing but chocolate and ice. The man, identified as one Nigel Prattle-Bottom (retired minor public school master, avid birdwatcher and possessor of what neighbours describe as a ‘splendid moustache’), was stranded after a blizzard severed his communications and left him clinging to a rock face at 26,000 feet.
Rescuers found him not in a state of panic but sitting cross-legged, calmly unwrapping a Galaxy bar and muttering about the poor quality of Nepalese tea. ‘It was simply a matter of keeping one’s pecker up,’ he later told reporters, adjusting his tweed cap. ‘One had a few ounces of Kendal Mint Cake and a Thermos of hot water. The chocolate was a bonus. I rationed it out, one square per day, and dreamed of digestive biscuits.’
Consultant mountaineering psychologists have termed this phenomenon ‘The Dunkirk Spirit Effect’, a peculiar British condition where survival is achieved through sheer force of understatement. ‘An American would have broadcast a live Facebook video and demanded an airlift,’ observed Dr. Alistair Finch-Smythe of the Royal Society for the Preservation of Stiff Upper Lips. ‘A Frenchman would have surrendered. But a Brit sees being trapped on a freezing mountain as an opportunity to be stoic about the weather and complain about the NHS waiting times once he’s down.’
Prattle-Bottom’s survival kit consisted entirely of items from his local Waitrose: three bars of 70% dark chocolate (posh, obviously), a packet of Rich Tea biscuits (which he eked out with almost religious reverence), and a hip flask filled with a ‘medicinal’ single malt. He also used a copy of the Daily Telegraph to insulate his boots (the crossword was completed, naturally, with a fountain pen). ‘The crossword saved my sanity,’ he admitted. ‘I also read the obituaries to remind myself that dying on Everest is still better than being mentioned in The Guardian.’
His climbing partner, one ‘Bazza’ from Slough (who survived by virtue of having a rucksack full of Pot Noodles and a can of Special Brew), described Prattle-Bottom as ‘the most stubborn git I’ve ever met.’ The pair became separated when Prattle-Bottom insisted on stopping to ‘admire the vista’ and politely asked the blizzard to ‘bugger off.’ When it refused, he simply waited.
The climbing community has been understandably thrilled. Sir Ranulph Fotherington-Thomas, an explorer who once survived three weeks in the Antarctic on a diet of pemmican and righteous fury, called it ‘a triumph of British grit over common sense.’ He added: ‘Of course, a modern nanny state would have told him to take an emergency beacon and a satellite phone. But where’s the moral fibre in that?’
Naturally, the incident has sparked a wave of national pride. Conservative MPs have already tabled a motion to rename the South Col ‘Churchill’s Snack Corner’ and the government is reportedly considering a new visa category for Sherpas: ‘Enablers of British Derring-Do.’ Meanwhile, the climbing community has issued an official statement: ‘We advise against replicating this feat. However, if you must, ensure your chocolate is Fairtrade and your insurance covers specialist search and rescue for idiots.’
As for Prattle-Bottom, he is recovering in a Kathmandu hospital, already planning his next adventure: a solo ascent of a Ben Nevis via the ‘shortcut’ that involves walking directly into a bog. ‘One does what one must,’ he said, signing autographs for bewildered locals. ‘But I do hope the hospital has a decent selection of Earl Grey.’
In other news, David Attenborough has announced he will narrate a documentary on the event, titled ‘The Indomitable Gammon: A Species on the Edge.’ Or at least he should. Because this story writes itself. Even the Sherpas are reportedly now demanding chocolate bars as part of their standard gear. It’s the British way. God save the king. And the chocolate.
