Periodically I like to spend my evenings imbibing industrial quantities of fermented barley-based beverages followed by lengthy peregrinations through the metropolis' darkly stagnant streets. It was a Thursday night and my blood was approximately 20 per cent aftershave and 75 per cent Tennent's Super special brew. The rest being... well... haemoglobin I suppose.

In any case on this particular occasion I was accompanied by several other mendicants of ill-repute. I exuberantly decided to play a little trick on them.

I ran ahead some distance out of their view and spotted some railings on the side of the street, beyond which lurked sufficient undergrowth to hide in for the purposes of launching a scare attack. However it was a high fence replete with perilous looking spears on the top.

Fearless as ever I manouvred my size 11 right foot on to the top of the railing and attempted to haul myself over and catapult into the soft bushes beyond. Sadly one of my laces became caught on a spike and I swang forwards into the earth face first. My right foot was now tethered to the fence, as the laces had pulled tight and my foot could not be wrested from the iron grip of my boots.

In this position I was unable to see the street and listened grimly as my trampmates walked past noisly, singing a bibulous shanty and seemingly oblivious to my position. Perhaps my failure to vocalise my distress was due to the amount of intoxicants in my blood.

'Help, help,' I eventually stuttered. Nothing. It seemed this was a particularly quiet spot. I began to imagine myself trapped for days, surviving on nettle leaves and small worms clawed from the soggy earth. Eventually a beautiful, slim young lady would realise my predicament and initiate a daring rescue before offering me a share of her bed while I recovered - albeit she hardly allowed me much time to sleep...

I was just beginning to enjoy myself when an impossibly cheerful Australian male poked his head over the railings and admired my inverted form. 'G'Day mate!' he greeted me inanely. I pondered whether to tell him to fuck off, but alas, self-preservation won the day.