Another day. Another week. Another month. Another year. Another decade. Before you know it you’re 112, slurping HobNobs through a straw, and thinking to yourself “Oh man. How I wish I’d gone on more adventures when I could. How I wish I’d truly lived.”

And then suddenly you’re choking on an errant HobNob crumb, that’s somehow worked its way up the straw and reconstituted itself as a weapon in your gullet, and you’re dying. You’re dying. You’re dying. You’re dead. Sayonara. Rest in peace. Goodnight Vienna.

Now nobody in their right mind could ever accuse Tom Caulfield and James Whittle, also known as The Tempest Two, of not seizing the day and adventuring the shit out of life while they’re young. This pair might not have “Carpe Diem” tattooed on their forehead, and ‘adve’ – ‘ntur’ inked on their knuckles but they might as well have. These boys don’t just talk the talk, they walk the walk as well.