Stay away from Ragzorn’s beard.

There are things in there.

Horrible things.

Try not to flinch as Babbkavetra the 498th bites the head off one of her small children, and offers you the headless, oozing corpse. When she makes the remark "Don't worry, I got plenty more at home," laugh politely and claim to be on a diet.

Pheleen Oliblahn Harge will be a gracious host this evening, providing you with food and drink that will appear to be familiar. However, it will not, in fact, be edible.

Not to worry, as Pheleen will provide not only a stomach pump, but will also lance the peculiar boils that form later in the evening, even after you refer to her living sofa as a "harlot," and "not to be trusted."

I suggest sending her a thank-you card before we leave orbit.

The Gangor may appear to be fearsome with their gargantuan maws of sharpened teeth, , but rest assured in the knowledge that these are affectations. They are not unlike a general's medals or a cashmere sweater on your world, if the cashmere sweater in question would bite your head off at the slightest display of fear, surprise, melancholie or indigestion.

Do not let that last concern put you off breakfast; competing in the ceremonial feats of strength will be hard enough without doing it on an empty stomach.