Rope swing
For a couple of years as a child I had the full run of Cheltenham College's facilities on Sundays and during their lengthy holidays - a lake with punting boats, an assault course, a climbing wall....and a truly gigantic wide-branched tree.

This tree had, in various positions around its branches, ropes hanging down for intrepid boys to swing from. These varied from ones from which my little sister would swing with ease, going right up to death-defying daredevil level ones that NO-ONE HAD EVER MANAGED.

For no explicable reason, whilst bored one day, I took it upon myself to take on THE BEHEMOTH. The most dangereux, hard-man rope swing of all. I swung outwards and upwards as far and high as it would go, and then (and I recall this in a lucid but dreamline manner)... I let go.

I literally flew through the air for several seconds, paralysed with terror, until the inevitable ground/Monty interface occurred.

To date I lack a point on one of my incisors, but what really does my head in is the fact that this incredible feat was witnessed by not one single person. What the fuck was I doing?
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Fri 13 Feb 2009, 15:00, Reply)