Walks and utter public humiliation
I once agreed to do a 40 mile cross country walk in 12 hours. The most walking I ususally do is to the kebab shop down the end of our road, but for some reason I thought it'd be a piece of piss. Well, here's a heads up guys, 40 miles is a twatting long way. Wore my dad's hiking boots, which i think date pre-war, and got blisters within a couple of miles. My arse started chafing within 5. Old duffers in lycra would jog past me, waving and saying things like "only 35 miles to go lad". I retired at 28 miles (which only took me 9 hours, hurruh!), demoralised, embarrassed, barely able to stand and generally feeling like a bit of a tit.

Also, last christmas got approached by a friend in a pub asking if I wanted to be in the "smoker". The smoker is a medical school thing involving dancing girls, purile medical school humour, comedy giant phalluses etc etc. I asked what I had to do, she says that I just have to sit on stage and be lap-danced to. I have absolutely no problem with being lap danced, as long as it's done tastefully and is vital to the plot, so I say ok. I turned up to rehersals and said friend hands me a tiny leopard print thong. I say what's this, she says that's your costume. In the end I had to stand on stage in a lab coat, a thong and a bow tie, being slowly stripped of the coat by attractive young freshers, while 500+ pissed up medics laugh at my puny muscles. Luckily I was very, very drunk.
(donksta, Sun 17 Oct 2004, 1:20, Reply)