A handsome strapping gent of noble birth and deserved office, complete with handlebar mustache and heroic chin, a dead shot with both hands, a cocky swagger, stoic determination in the face of impossible odds, a thirst for high adventure, and a chest that sends the woman's hearts a-flutter.

The day he set foot on the island, upon hearing a vicious barbaric tiger screaming it's revenge and tumbling into town, clawing wildly at poor unfortunate souls left and right, and heading straight towards him, he was seen to stand up teacup in one hand, pistol in the other, then heard to utter the immortal words, that only the Her Majesty's great countrymen (god save the queen!) could, "Bullocks, the beast has interupted my tea!" He then calmly placed a bullet squarely in between the eyes of the tiger, which slid to the ground at his feet dead. Sitting back down, he placed his feet on the tigers head, reclinded against the back of the chair, took a sip of tea, put the cup down, tipped his hat to the astonished onlookers, then pulled it over his eyes, and promptly went to sleep.

Such is what empires of made of! Huzzah!