Dear readers as I was sifting through the email resulting from last weeks story on Electrical Safety, (which can be a bit hard while listening on the iPod to the highly emotive “Scottish Highlands Band’s tribute to Marilyn Manson&rdquo I came across a particularly distressing plea from a staff member. And I guess dear reader that this call for help resulted from the current media coverage of the impending Olympic games. Specifically reader, this emotionally troubled staff member requested to know "What can I do help my kiddies make into a future Olympics.”

As a former elite athlete, and athletics coach (and I emphasize athletics not a paedophile tennis coach ) it draws tears in my eyes to hear parents, often just simple folk, having such great aspirations for their little cherubs. But don’t get me wrong because, subconsciously, we all know that performance in sport ultimately translates to achievements in the cut-throat-business world and dare I say the boudoir.

Basically dear reader it’s win at all cost, because, especially if you’re a male since our flimsy egos were poorly designed to handle any other outcome.

Well thoughtful parents, I’ll try to give you a few ideas by relating the techniques I tested on my first born - Junior1 and myself, in the pursuit of excellence.

In his first year of little athletics, I tried Junior on growth hormone extracted from the pituitary gland from our recently deceased cat, but frankly dear reader the results were disappointing. Junior’s time in the 10,000 metres regressed if anything (maybe I should have sterilized the needle because the poor little fella was having convulsions 5 minutes before the race). So I went back to the drawing board, the techniques I pioneered in the old days that any old Olympian from the 70’s will remember.

Well there was not such thing as performance enhancing drugs in those days but we have our little tricks to boost endurance. Let me relate what I used to do, wonderful, simple techniques that have been cobwebbed because the influence of the pharmaceutical companies.

My favourite one, which I pioneered, was “make the little buggers work” and here dear reader I referring to those haemoglobin transporting cells – your red blood cells. This is how it goes:

Three months before a major competition, you forget about those hard, marathon training sessions on the athletics track. Instead you take up smoking in a big way- smoke 3 packets of “Marlboro Red” a day. This will knock out 99.99% percent of your red blood cells.

This leaves only about 3 red bloods cells to keep you functioning. And those little buggers have to learn to work real hard.

A week before the event you stop the fags and new red blood cells build up rapidly but you've got used to functioning with only 3 over-worked, enthusiastic little corpuscles.

What a bonus, when after a week of giving up the cigs, those endangered little corpuscles are suddenly reinforced with a heap of mates to help them. Your endurance has reached Olympic heights. There’s little that can stop you.

The only problem I encountered with this technique, dear reader, was that I smelt like a newly bitumenised freeway. Mind you this had this advantages because I could clear an overcrowded train carriage in a few seconds and get a seat, but my fellow competitors were starting to get a bit suspicious, even thought here was no drug testing at the time.

Luckily, reader, I discovered Engine Degreaser at the $2 shop. By spraying my self with this wonderful solvent, a few minutes before a shower, the tar ouzed from my pores and would all wash away. But there was a funny incident which I’d like to share. While doused in solvent and waiting for the shower to warm up I made the mistake of lighting up a cigi. Did I go up! As I rushed for the pool, I inadvertently set alight the Cyprus hedges that surrounded the complex I was living in.

When the Metropolitan Fire Brigade arrived, I crawled out of the pool, looking like Michael Klim – hair and eye brows singed off, and explained to them that I just burst into flames – no cause at all. It was spontaneous combustion. After all I had to keep my training techniques secret.

A second technique which I pioneered, for those impoverished athletes who can’t afford $30/day for cigi’s to achieve your Olympic dream, was to start the car in an enclosed garage. This was cheap and had the same effect, that of carbon monoxide knocking out the red blood cells. Now you might think this is outrageously dangerous but I did take precautions dear reader. My little yellow canary, a sacrifice for my Olympic dream, was going to be my warning signal if I had exceeded the limit. Little did I know that my canary was 1 in a trillion, and genetically insensitive to carbon monoxide.

So dear reader, in the garage, car engine running, I waited for the canary to cark it – a signal to get out quickly. And as I turned blue, my usually useless friend "Bono" (abbreviation for Bonehead) arrived. I vaguely remember him say something like “You’ll could get yourself killed” as he went upstairs to help himself to my VB beers.

By this stage I was feeling slightly distressed, I couldn’t move. When Bono came back down and opened the car door I was nearly a goner. But then survival instinct kicked in. I remembered when Bono and I had attended training for our Bronze Life Saver Life Save qualification. I remembered that when we did pulmonary resuscitation training and they didn’t they didn't sterilizing the mannequin mask after Bono had used it – they just threw it away because he had such poor Oral Hygiene. I also remembered the only girl he kissed. The exchange of bodily fluids put her in hospital for 3 months. Anyway the thought of having CPR from Bono was like a bolt of lighting and I came conscious in a flash.

After that minor incident I was still was racing around the 4 Km Tan (path surrounding the Melbourne Botanical gardens) at a sizzling pace, fast enough to win gold in every event from 400m to 10000m - well that was till an unforeseen lung ailment struck me down and I had to miss the National Championships. Still there was some consolation.

Spontaneous combustion of humans was a topic widely disputed in the scientific community at the time. I did however make it, (because of a little fib) into Scientific America as the first, irrefutable case of the phenomena. This inspired wonderful science fiction, like an episode of X-FILES, one of my favourite TV shows 10 years ago.

Anyway, the Corporate Games are only 3 months away and I got to start training – as soon as I can find the cigarette lighter. See you with next week.

[ Next week we look "Cheap and Exciting activities for your Juniors with High Voltage Electricity"]

@jules4169 Good tall tale, that. I like it. In order for every one here to see it, please re-post it as a group post.

Damned spelling glitch again. The name is Dingodog. I'll edit this post to see if it changes again.

Hah..! So far, so good.