1) I would hug it and squeeze it and call it George.
2) Sunscreen (approx. factor 500); very sharp, pointy knife; single use spellbook.
3) Lord of the Flies (1963)
4) Love Actually
5) After having somehow watched Lord of the Flies without the aid of any AV equipment whatsoever, I'd feel quite aggrieved and may also be in the first stages of regressive behaviour. Before forgetting how to read, I'd use the spellbook to summon the entire cast of Love Actually. On their arrival, I'd ritually slaughter each and every one for being part of the single worst film ever committed to celluloid, whilst making sure to appease the great God Apoxtopexl (who, as it turns out, resides in a volcano in the centre of George) with offerings of their entrails. Liam Neeson's kid gets it first, then Keira Knightley, swiftly followed by Emma Thompson. This, interspersed with swimming, breadless sandwiches and introspective navel-gazing, is how I'd spend my time.
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