I am now nursing a very bruised hip and it’s all for the sake of cool.

Here is my story–

Walking through London Victoria’s sizeable train station the other week, I was feeling quite depressed. I was wearing my suit, was carrying my brief-case, and was wondering if this was the best it would ever get (did I mention I sell Caravan insurance part time?). Then I spotted them: a bunch (if that’s the correct word for a gang of youths doing break-dancing?) of youths doing flips and twirls and spins. Now, here’s where it gets exciting–as I drew closer to them a man with a mop finished mopping (surprise surprise) an area nearby. With that the youths took to doing enormous slides on the slippery floor, then combining this with more flips and spins. The danger of it was enthralling!

That was when something rogue and hidden for many years came over me. The hip-hop music, the atmosphere of the growing crowd–all of it combining and me wanting, no, make that needing, to slide on the floor and prove myself. So I did. I put my brief case down, took a giant run up and slide like a demon across the floor to the delight of the crowd!

The cheering started (along with much appreciation of the break dancers, yeah man!) just as I came to the end of the wet surface, and then I heard someone shout “Oh no!” and that was when the dry marble stopped me dead and this business man went a flying–

Landing straight on his hip…

Still, I did look cool though.