He's Electric.
Today, I
switched a socket on with my first finger while my ring finger was wet.
I’m a maverick.
It’s official: I
live life on the edge. The edge of electrocution, it seems. The buzz I get taking risks is akin to the buzz I'd have got if I'd pressed the switch with
the wrong finger. I like to practise extreme sports on a small scale without
leaving the house.
You should see
how I iron: standing in a bath full of water, letting the flex tease the
surface. I lick my cheese grater clean in a downward motion. I kick
windows open, gargle bleach, and climb inside my preheated oven on cold days, closing the door behind me. I’m addicted to the rush that comes with
peril, without wanting to commute to the source. I'll risk my life, as
long as I don’t risk missing the beginning of The One Show. I can't live without Matt Baker’s cheeky face and winning banter.
The chances I
take are nothing compared to that of my friend’s mum. She once punched a
horse in the face. It had my friend's ear in its mouth and wouldn’t let go. That woman is
hardcore.