Do you have many enemies? If you could get your own back, what would you do? Replace Joanne’s platinum-blonde shampoo with purple paint? Forward a few illicit texts on to Steve’s wife?

Nah, that’s child’s play. If you really want to inflict severe, lasting anguish upon another human being – send them on a long walk.

A walk? Oh, no! A lovely perambulate is good for the soul! WRONG! It’s like giving sugar to a toddler – seems innocent enough, perhaps some would even consider it a ‘treat’, but the consequences are dire, as I recently discovered...

“You can’t stay, we’re going out,” my brother told me when I landed on his doorstep.

“Well me car is in t’garage getting a service! I didn’t take me house keys off either!” I moaned.

“Sorry, but we’re going for something to eat and a drink.”

“Food then a bar?”

“We’re of a certain age – we need to be able to buy a meal and cheap drink in the same place.”

Thus I was encouraged to go for a “long walk” to put some time in. I wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of a leisurely stroll but hey, I had no choice.

The first thing that hit me was the sunshine. I rarely ventured outside and I hissed as my vampire skin started to frazzle in the burning 20 degree heat. The second thing that perturbed me were the amount of locals in track suits. “Didn’t know Workington was so health conscious,” I muttered to myself.

I didn’t want to exert myself right away so, inspired by my fellow health fanatics, I chose to get some healthy, potato energy at the chippy round the corner. I won’t even mention the insane ‘chub-rub’ this produced on my thunder thighs (even on a short journey), but let’s just say my upper legs soon resembled my rosacea riddled fyace.

I was happy there wasn’t a queue but at the same time I hadn’t decided on what to get. As the queue dwindled down the pressure mounted and my indecisiveness aroused a suffocating air of panic. Once I got to the counter I blurted out ‘haggis’ and soon regretted my decision as I sat on a bench staring sadly at a brown ball of mush in clear plastic.

It was nasty, so bad that I almost didn’t finish it all. I set off on my walkabout tour once again and got 600 yards before the haggis energy dissipated and I was medically dehydrated. Luckily I had some electrolyte-charged fluid on me (Ribena) and I resumed the foot-tivities after a brief-hour long rest on a climbing frame at Moorclose.

Another VERY long ten minutes in I had blisters the size of Afghanistan and the WHO had declared the chub-rub an international emergency. To top things off the haggis was wreaking revenge and acid had worked its way up from the bowels of my intestines and was begging for something I didn’t have – my peptic. As someone nearing 40 and overweight I should have known better than not to pack indigestion aid on such a gruelling journey. Damn all those youngsters with their functioning bodies.

Once the garage rang I was lying in a pile of sweat near Kwik-Fit, begging passers-by for donations of Rennies and sudocrem. Thankfully, my brother was stuffed with his Wetherspoon’s steak and gave me a lift.

“Feeling fitter?” he asked.

“I didn’t even know I had muscles in my legs.” I struggled to speak and breathe simultaneously.

I’ve never experienced such physical pain in my life, and I’ve had two kids. Pull my fingernails off any day! I won’t even go into the mental torture that was being alone with my thoughts. So there – you want to inflict pain, suggest a walk. You might even luck out and there’s panic at the chip shop.