Terry thinks he's Rambo, trying to go into th jungle all by his lonesome and emerge victorious, but it really doesn't work like that in vicious e-warfare as this is.
I now have less than a week in which to extricate myself from this disaster. It's likely that my own means of escape is some pre-emptive manual relief in the traditional Raunchbitch manner: rubber gloves, salad tongs and strong antiseptic. Wish me luck.