The Further Adventures of An Idiot Abroad - Karl Pilkington

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looking up at me from their graffiti-covered camper van. They seemed friendly enough, but if there’s one thing that doesn’t work with me, it’s people trying to force me to do something. The more they force, the more my brain fights against it. I’ve tried to teach my brain new things but then it just forgets them. Yet, I can remember postcodes of old addresses from years ago. My dad once bet me that by the time I got home I wouldn’t remember the number plate of a car in front of us. I can still remember it now. It was a maroon Ford Orion, registration D189 ONB. Why has my brain chosen to store that bit of information? What use is it? I can’t even remember my National Insurance number. My brain does what it wants.

      SAM: I know you’re not that keen on bungee jumping, but we’ll tell you a little bit about it because it’s fantastic – you’ll love it!

      KYLE: Safe as houses, mate. Nothing can go wrong.

      SAM: Nothing can go wrong . . . most of the time.

      KYLE: It’s an absolute rush, total adrenaline rush – you’ll love it.

      KARL: I don’t like it. I don’t need it. Honestly, I’m not messing. I don’t need adrenaline rushes.

      SAM: Why is that?

      KARL: Because I have enough stress in me life.

      KYLE: This will ease all the stress out.

      SAM: And that is the whole point. To take that shit out of your life.

      KARL: No, it won’t ease it, it’ll make it worse.

      SAM: It won’t.

      KARL: It will! You know nothing about me. You’ve just turned up here telling me what I like. You don’t know. I don’t like that kind of danger.

      I came in from the balcony. Luke told me that Sam, the taller of the two, was a doctor, which surprised me, but then I suppose doctors and surgeons do have to have a bit of a mad streak in them to do the jobs they do. Normal people wouldn’t be able to remove lungs from someone’s chest and remain calm.

      Luke the director asked me to go along for the ride with Sam and Kyle and witness them do a jump. As we drove we talked about my concerns. They tried to sell it to me by saying that it would all be over in eight seconds, but that isn’t a good enough reason to do it. Eight seconds of joy isn’t worth having. It’s the same reason I don’t understand why people eat oysters. They’re only in the mouth for a second. Sam said I could discover who I really am by doing a bungee. I hope by now, aged 38, I know who I am. If I’m actually someone else what a waste all these years have been.

      SAM: There is a point of madness to it, and that’s it, just embrace the madness, and admit there’s something wrong with me here.

      KYLE: Embrace the idiot inside.

      SAM: Yeah.

      KYLE: Let the idiot out.

      KARL: Maybe that’s it though, maybe my idiot is always out – it doesn’t need to do bungee.

      KYLE: What you thinking, man?

      KARL: Okay, I’m happy to stand on the edge ’cos I want to give myself the chance to do it if my brain wants to.

      I agreed to go out onto the ledge to see if my brain got the urge to leap, but first I had to be weighed so that they knew the right sort of bungee cord to use, and I had to sign a waiver form. We made our way over to the bungee platform in a type of cable car that was suspended 134 metres above the Nevis river. The minute we stepped off the cable car, back it went to pick up more people – the idea being that by the time it gets back to the platform I would have jumped off and be ready for my return. Loud rock music was playing out of speakers, which I presume was to get you pumped up ready for the jump. I stood in the middle of the platform like a trapped fly in a spider’s web.

      I was introduced to Phil, a pony-tailed instructor, who was in charge of safety. He had me sat on a chair in no time, strapped my ankles together and hooked me on to the massive bungee cord. At this point I still didn’t know if I wanted to do it or not. I’d stopped saying ‘definitely not’ and was willing to see what happened.

      Phil explained the process. ‘So, we’re gonna put you in a set of ankle cuffs, go out to the edge, and you’ve just got to listen to us, OK? Nothing bad can happen once you leave that edge. You’re gonna get the best feeling you’ve ever had in your life. Guarantee it. So, the idea is you’re gonna do a nice big forward dive out, just like going into a swimming pool, OK? A belly flop. Can you do that? You’re gonna go down, you’ll enjoy a couple of bounces, and we’ll bring you back up.’

      Phil said all this very calmly in the same tone that a negotiator would use to change the mind of someone who was thinking about committing suicide by jumping off a bridge, the difference being he was trying to get me to jump. He shuffled me to the edge with my ankles bound. I’m not afraid of heights – I was quite happy looking out at the mountains and taking in the fresh air – but it was the idea of leaping that I couldn’t get my head round. At this stage, I still wasn’t sure if I was going to do it or not. My heart was pounding and I was now aware of my heavy breathing. The platform shook as the cable car dropped off more people.

      KARL: There’s a queue over there of people waiting to do this! I’ve been in New Zealand for under 24 hours, I’ve hardly seen any people, and the most people I’ve seen are queuing up to do a bungee.

      SAM: That’s what people come to New Zealand for. Travel to the top of the world to jump off it, man. This is the point.

      KYLE: I believe you can do this, bro.

      KARL: Yeah, but don’t be saying that. Are you going to be disappointed if I don’t do this?

      SAM: No, but we’ll be stoked if you do.

      KYLE: Yeah, we’ll be over the moon if you do.

      SAM: There’s only you, it’s not about anyone else. It’s not about who wants you to do this. You’re the only person that can make you jump off the edge. It’s just you and that space between fear and total excitement.

      KARL: My brain is saying no.

      SAM: Of course it is.

      KARL: My stomach’s saying ‘don’t be stupid’.

      SAM: Your entire being is saying ‘this isn’t making sense’.

      KYLE: Yet there’s a little bit in there that’s saying do it.

      KARL: No, I haven’t got that bit. I’m not hearing that.

      KYLE: You’re out here now, aren’t you?

      SAM: It’s that little element that wants to kill the tiger, that wants to ride the lightning . . .

      PHIL: OK, you ready?

      KARL: Errmm, hang on a minute. Errmm . . .

      KYLE: COME ONNNN! YEAHHHH!

      SAM: It’s proving to yourself that you can quieten that voice in your head that says don’t do it.

      This is the part I don’t understand. Surely you should listen to the voice in your head. It’s when you stop listening to that voice that you get yourself into trouble. If I didn’t listen to it at this point, would it ever speak to me again? I wouldn’t if I was it.

      The problem is, these days you have to listen to too many parts of your body. Sometimes I go with my gut feeling, some say go with what your heart says – it’s only a matter of time before my appendix will have an opinion. This is probably why there are so many helplines these days. No one knows who to bloody listen to!

      My left leg started to shake uncontrollably

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