“How big is it?”

Estimates vary. Some have tried to measure it. Nobody has succeeded.

Ask an Anarchadian and they might shrug and say "How long is a piece of string?"

However, since the Euphobian Commissioners and their Commodity Inspectors have defined lengths of string and issued a directive controlling their standardised lengths, this picturesque but ultimately frustrating expression has lost its relevance.

Let's just say, then, that it would take millions of Thompson String-ettes, laid end to end, to get from one side to another.

But it would be a pointless exercise.

Anarchadia is a massive temperate archipelago. Between the islands are many open stretches of water. As everyone knows, Thompson String-ettes are not water resistant.

In fact, Thompson String-ettes are water absorbent - who could ever forget "Absorb water today, with Thompson String-ettes!" They'd sink without trace.

“How do I get there?”

“What the hell’s a sea banana?”

“Okay, I’ll fost. Will I need a passport?”

Hob's preferred method of getting back to Anarchadia, after a particularly long running Wild Hunt, is to fost.

Fosts are leakages through time and space brought on by the effect of speed on these hapless dimensions.

If you can't fost, head Westward Ho! from Westward Ho!

But watch out for the sea bananas.

i

You really don't know anything about Anarchadia, do you?

A sea banana is like a sea cucumber but much, much bigger and carnivorous.

Maybe you'd prefer to persevere at fosting.

No you just turn up.

“But if I wanna read about Anarchadia first, where can I get the books?”