Have you ever wondered what it would
be like too hurl yourself from the top of the Grand Canyon and
plummet into the rocky ravine with nothing but a scream and length
of Vanessa Felts’ knicker elastic?
Keep wondering! The best we can offer is the buzz afforded by
the humble bungee jump!
By the way, if any girls are contemplating this jump, just one
piece of advice. Don't lie about your weight - it wouldn't be
the first time a delusional salad-dodger hit the dirt in the pursuit
here to visit Sky High Bungee
Parachute jumping is a 3 stage
process. Huddled in the belly of a tiny fuselage wearing Rick
Waller’s leisure suit, you begin by questioning the sanity
of jumping from a plane that's working just fine strapped to a
Then you’re plummeting to earth at more
than 120mph, praying that the guy you’re strapped to doesn't
have a dodgy ticker or unhappy home life. Your stomach contents
are threatening to walk out on you and you swear you’ll
never do it again.
But before you know it, you’re the King
of the World. As your feet kiss the freshly cut grass (unless
you’re unlucky enough to have landed in a tree next to the
M25) you feel unbelievably alive. And you want to go again…
If you’d like to experience the ultimate
bad hair day, Click
here to visit TandemJump.co.uk
small, they’re fast and even a blonde could parallel park
one. Yep, the trusty go-kart is one fun machine - if you can escape
the thought that your testicles are skimming the tarmac at speeds
in excess of 40 miles an hour; tarmac that was probably laid by
a man wearing a sheepskin coat and riding a pony called Jesse.
All this is forgotten as you don your helmet and gloves and settle
into your trusty machine. The flag goes down and you mash the
pedal to the metal. Unleashing the Jensen Button in you, the arena
becomes a blur as you concentrate on taking your friends from
It’s a truly unforgettable experience - hairpin bends,
chicanes, tyre walls and a bevy of buxom beauties waving you on
from the pits (who said there’s no place for women in motor
here to visit go-karts.co.uk
often pictured myself white water rafting. Dressed in nothing
but faded khaki shorts and a weather-beaten cotton shirt, I paddle
furiously through mighty river waters, a classic struggle of man
against nature, me versus the elements, the sweeping majesty of
the Chilean mountains barely noticed as torrents of water and
foam drench the trendy stubble of my rugged features.
But, as I imagine myself sitting cross-legged on the thin rubber
base of our raft, boldly contemplating the rapids ahead, I am
irrevocably struck by the proximity of my family jewels to the
river bed below and I hurriedly head back to the Land Rover, foiled
Made of sterner stuff? Click
here to visit rafting.co.uk
anything quite like scuba diving? Exploring the vastness of the
undersea kingdom can be truly awe-inspiring – if you can
get past hearing yourself breathing erratically and your new-found
subconscious ability to play the Jaws theme over and over in your
An affinity with all things fishy and a penchant for plundering
old wrecks is a necessity – which pretty much qualifies
most blokes after 3 or 4 pints and a Donor Kebab.
If you fancy yourself as some kind of diver, click
here to visit simplyscuba.co.uk
climbing is a lot like pulling. First, there’s the preparation.
Never leave home with poorly maintained equipment and pack relatively
lightly – losing the contents of your sack before you reach
the summit can be embarrassing and seriously affect your ability
to climb again. And no, it doesn’t happen to everyone sometimes.
Then there’s the quality of your lines. They should be
as strong as possible – your very happiness may depend on
it and you’re unlikely to penetrate the most impressive
valleys without them. Finally, never underestimate your fingers
– they can be used to devastating effect both above and
below the tree line.
Follow these simple rules and you’re sure to reach the
climax, collapsing between Mother Nature’s impressive peaks,
exhausted but content. Just remember - The Passage to India should
only be tackled by extremely confident climbers.
here to visit cressbrook.co.uk
talking! Jet Skiing is true Boys Toys territory and nothing beats
the thrill of accelerating across Britain’s choppy seas,
waving at the beach babes in their duffel coats and dodging the
Hot-dogging like your instructor taught you, you break into a
truly righteous move and, as the wind clutches at your hair and
the salty spray lashes your face, the crowds begin to roar –
you’ve mastered the Monica Lewinsky!
Caught in the heat of the moment, you mash the throttle and head
out to sea, determined to reach the shores of Holland. Hours later,
when the helicopter finds you and you clamber gratefully aboard
with nothing but a cheesy grin and a bout of pneumonia, you’re
assured of a bitchin’ story to tell your mates.
yourself with one ankle strapped to an ironing board tumbling
around in your Mums old washing machine and you’ve pretty
much got the feel for surfing.
I confess that the allure of freezing my backside off bobbing
in the waters around Cornwall with nothing but the urine trapped
in my wetsuit to keep me from slipping into a purple-lipped coma
is somewhat lost on me.
But we all know that’s not what surfing is really about.
Surfing is listening to the Beach Boys even though you’re
19, driving old Volkswagens with narley neon skirts and bitchin’
tinted windows, strutting along the beach with the top of your
wetsuit hanging coolly about your waist, wearing luminous sunglasses
and, of course, the babes. Oh, and lets not forget the obligatory
Fat Willy’s Surf Shack sticker in your rear windscreen.
In short, surfers are cool and cool people get laid more often.
What are you waiting for Dude?