It's always virtually impossible to find the ideal Birthday present for Charlotte.

Last week I was attending a conference in Germany and during an extended lunch break went for a walk around the huge indoor shopping centre adjacent to the conference cetre.

I saw something in one of those bloke-toy shops that sparked my interest. What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized Taser.

The effects of the Taser were supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, allowing adequate time to retreat to safety. Sounds perfect, especially for Charlotte when out walking the dog.

To cut a long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two AAA batteries in the thing and pushed the button.
Nothing happened!
I was disappointed.

I learned, however, that if I pushed the button AND pressed it against a metal surface at the same time; I'd get the blue arc of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs.  Impressive! (Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Charlotte what that burn spot is on the face of the microwave.)

So there I was, home alone, with this new toy, Thinking to myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only AAA batteries, right? There I sat in my recliner, my dog Max looking on intently (trusting little soul) while I was reading the directions (which were almost is not totally unintelligible when translated from Chinese, into German, then into English) and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh & blood moving target.  I must admit I thought about zapping Max (for a fraction of a second) and then thought better of it!

If I was going to give this thing to Charlotte to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I wrong? So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and tee shirt with my glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, and the mini-Taser in the other.

The directions said that a one-second burst would "shock and disorient your assailant"; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a major loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. "Any burst longer than three seconds would be wasting the batteries".

All the while I'm looking at this little device measuring about 5 inches long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference; pretty cute really and (loaded with two 'ickle AAA batteries) thinking to myself, 'no possible way!' What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best...

I'm sitting there alone, Max looking on with his head cocked to one side as if to say, 'don't do it, you plonker', reasoning that a one second burst from such a tiny thing couldn't hurt all that badly. I decided to give myself a one second burst just for heck of it. I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and . . BANG! CRACKLE!

I'm pretty sure Giant Haystacks ran in through the lounge door, picked me up in the recliner, then body slammed us both on the carpet, over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, with tears in my eyes, body soaking wet, both nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and major tingling in my legs.

Max was making whimpering sounds I had never heard before, cowering in the space behind the sofa obviously in an attempt to avoid getting slammed by my body flopping all over the living room. Note: If you ever feel compelled to 'mug' yourself with a Taser, one note of caution: there is no such thing as a one second burst when you zap yourself! You will not be able to let go of the thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor.

A three second burst would be considered conservative - IT HURT LIKE HELL!  A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was an abstract thing at that point), I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My bent glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. The recliner was upside down and about 8 feet or so from where it originally was.  My triceps, right thigh and both nipples were still twitching. My face felt like it had been the subject of a massive Botox overdose, and my bottom lip weighed about as much as a narrowboat.  I had no control over the drooling.  Apparently I pooped myself, but was too numb to know for sure as my sense of smell was gone. I saw a faint smoke cloud above my head which I believe came from my now-departed hair. I'm still looking for my bollocks (and I'm offering a significant reward for their safe return).

PS. Charlotte hated it as a present, so it's now in the drawer with all those other silly bloke-toys...

If you think education is painful, try being stupid...