The Boys, the Bullsharks and the Body-poppings

On the first morning of my diving lessons I met Tom, Steve and Maz. These three lads constantly ripped each other to shit and were a source of much amusement. They were all from somewhere around Wolverhampton, I believe, I could check but it's of no great concern to man nor beast really, is it? They had been travelling together and were basically doing the same sort of trip as us.

These boys were three out of the four people I'd be diving with, and the last member of the quad squad was a young whipper-snapper by the name of Oliver.

Ollie was on his gap year before going to Durham University to study French and Spanish (I therefore called him 'Booky-wooky', or 'College-boy' or 'Reader' - but only when he wasn't listening).

He had already spent six months in South America including three months doing volunteer work. He'd told me that he was glad when that part was over, not because it was tiring, but it meant that his mate would go home and he could travel the way he 'wanted to'.

After getting to know Ollie, if he wasn't scaling mountains with his teeth, digging wells for the forgotten tribes of West Boolahdoolahwoolah with his bare hands and only eating what he could kill with his penis, he wasn't travelling. There's a blog worth reading. Lesson learned. (Lie more.)

Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed

So back to the exciting world of diving. Shit...

Anyways, so this gang was to be my company over the next three or four days, and completing the quintet was our Dutch dive instructor Steffi. Steffi, by all accounts, was a legend and was just about patient enough to see all of us through to completing the course. Sort of.

The first day consisted of watching an appallingly lusty video and, horror of horrors, we were set homework! The second day we were to get kitted out and hit the swimming pool where we'd practice all of the 'safety' skills and other girly stuff that apparently we'd need underwater, I don't know I wasn't really paying much attention. I was much more interested in winning all of the swimming races and being the best at everything. As the pictures will testify...

Tenacity personified

I realised that I haven't been competitive about something (apart from 'Where's Hilary Duff') for a good four months or so, and it was raging inside of me like some kind of really scary clown that wanted to be the best at stuff for some nondescript reason or another.

'Maz,' I was thinking, 'I like you already, you're an intelligent lad and your Championship football knowledge is second to none, but just because you're struggling to do ten lengths don't think I won't pull you down and drown you to win.'

This was not really an exaggeration. Plus Maz was indeed struggling. Outside of the water he had seemed like a perfectly able-bodied individual but suddenly, in it, he resembled a cat in a bag.

Shortly before Maz choked. Literally choked.

After he had been pulled out and he had coughed up most of the water, he told us that his wetsuit was too tight and he couldn't breathe. This was at first met with derision and laughter, but on closer inspection it did appear that he had been given a suit that would have been better suited to a six-year-old anorexic midget-girl. So, after much cajoling when he couldn't tread water for ten minutes, I believe he had it changed.

(I also found out later that he had been suffering from chronic diarrhoea for a few days, and I imagine that most of his physical exertion was probably going on not allowing an evacuation from one place, that would force an evacuation of the pool.)

Look at how deep we went!

The next day we were up bright and early and out on a proper boat on the proper water to do some proper diving.

I will try not to bore you with any meandering details, but suffice to say diving is something you should definitely try once. Like danger wanking. It's not for everyone, but it's worth a shot in the dark.

The following day, we were up at 5.45 to do a morning dive. We had been assured that we would almost definitely see sharks, but judging by Steffi and the school's underwater cameraman Paul's excitement perhaps we were actually quite lucky to see them! But, see them we did - a black tip reef shark and, what Steffi and Paul got so excited about, a 2.5 m (according to Paul - I reckon about 1.5 - 2m) bull shark. They were beautiful. It was one of the most serene moments of my life.

One other story of note is that for one of the skills that you have to be able to do to get qualified is being able to take your mask off, replace it, and clear it of water. To make this slightly more interesting Steffi took a pair of sunglasses down with her, and as you take off your mask, you replace them with the sunglasses and do a wee boogie.

We were given about half an hour's warning that this was going to happen, and, naturally, I put a lot of thought into it. Not only was this competition but it was also going to be recorded on video.

I had it. No one would do this, completely original and it'll blow them out of the water. Figuratively.

The Maca-fucking-rena.

So, when Maz went first, completing outdoing himself with a perfect David Brent dance, I thought I at least had an original dance to do. Then out of the corner of my eye I see Tom practising the, no, wait - you bastard - the Macarena! What!?

I'd spent twenty minutes on the boat in complete silence trying to remember it. I kept getting it mixed up with Saturday Night, the Three Amigos and Giggsy and Sharpey's goal routine a la 1995.

But I'd had it down. Now Bastard Tom was going to steal my idea. I had approximately twenty seconds to think of something. I was so full of rage that I couldn't enjoy Tom's performance, which, to be fair, was well above amateur.

Steffi gave the signal that Tom had finished, it was me next. I did the only thing I knew how to - I channelled my anger - I became: 'THE ANGRY ROBOT'. So angry in fact that my oxygen tank came free from its straps and cracked me on the base of the spine, making me choke on a mixture of rubbery air and salt water.

But it was beautiful. I don’t think I've ever been at one with the music more. And there wasn't even any music.

I can do the Robot at 2.8 atmospheres, and that's something you can never take away from me.

Never.