I believe I started last week’s blog with, ‘I’m not dead?’ Well this week I very nearly was, after doing an Olympic high jump style flip over the handle bars of my beloved bike. Shouldn’t really tempt fate should I?

It was quite an ordinary morning; Pilates, porridge, News 24 and then heading off to do the show at 5.30am. On this particular morning, I decided to carry six football shirts on hangers and to cut a long story short, one of the hangers got caught in the front spokes of my bike and off I toppled.

In that split second of going head over heels over the handle bars, it’s amazing how much time you have to think. A couple of thoughts passed through my mind, whilst airborne. Namely;

1)     I’m going to die.

2)     If I don’t die, I really don’t want to scratch my iPhone.

As I lay sprawled across Upper Lewes Road, numb with a combination of pain, shock and embarrassment, I quickly realised that I was alive and that my iPhone had also survived the impact.

The victims in this whole sorry episode were my wrists (having landed on them and bent them backwards) and my bike. Now, I don’t need to tell you how important the wrists are to man but I’ll tell you anyway; they are very important.

As for Madonna (my bikes name) well, she was in a right sorry state. It was the Desperately Seeking Susan years for her. She looked pretty rough.

'I look like a dog now but you wait for the Warren Beatty years.'

Anyway, days after the event, I now have wrist splints, having knackered my tendons and Madonna has recovered, thanks to the local superhero in the hood, Bicycle repair man.

So, what’s the moral of the story? There isn’t one. I’m just a twat.

The twat is back next week.