Zombie with a brain.
What if there was an aging british zombie writing his memoirs in the middle of nowhere in Alaska and here trundles in Mr Grylls and his reindeer carcass, not to mention the camera crew and all. It never showed if Bear explored the shack, he just seemed to carve out enough living/sleeping space from the ice at the entrance if the shack. Said zombie sits on the second floor or attic-like area of the small weather beaten shelter. His position suggets that he hasnt moved for a century perhaps, when zombies might have existed a century ago. He sits on a chair that would creak in a way his own bones would, if he had decided to move at all. His table is as wooden, as moldy and small. Pen in hand over a large volume that almost covers the table, with a small dried or frozen ink pot that probably solidified as soon as he sat. I would have liked to have the story go around the zombie contemplating on eating Mr Grylls brain as he slept theough the night. Of course this entails a lot of musings on how to skirt around the cameras and the rest of the crew of course, as well as creating possible scenarios, recipes and other zombie concerns with regards to the rarity of actually having a juicy brain literally at his doorstep. This all ends with the night ending and the survivalist being on his way while our contemplative and debating zombie never moving an inch from his seat. Maybe he remembers that he was looking for words to write in his memoirs about how he died, or will die.
