The “official” story goes something along the lines of this:
I was out with friends on a stag party in Cardiff, and drank way too much long island iced tea, together with a selection of other beers, alcopops and tequila slammers. After my third pitcher of LIIT, and a meal in Tiger Tiger, I was out in the sunshine on the way to the next bar when I saw a brick structure with some plants in the centre, about six feet high. I saw this as a perfect opportunity to show off my amazing open-body jump (like a star jump but with your legs and arms stretched out as far as you can back behind you, below and above your body), which I have performed on many occasion, landing on both feet in my trainers and absorbing all of the shock through bent knees in a crouching position. However the amount of alcohol in my bloodstream meant that I forgot I was wearing smart shoes, and also meant that I completely misjudged the height and point at which I leave the open position to start crouching at the knees, thus absorbing the shock of 14 stone on my heels and ankles, colliding with solid concrete. This meant that I landed with straightening rather than bending legs, extending rather than flexing at the knees. The pain of the shock was felt instantaneously and I fell to the ground. I quickly picked myself up straight away and started limping to catch up with my compadres. I do not remember anyone laughing at me, but I’m sure they were. I don’t remember much else to be honest apart from limping painfully from foot to foot, my left heel suffering from impact shock and bruising, and my right heel the same, together with aggravated bruising around a previous tennis injury, a sprain due to over proximal flexion at the ankle. Two or three days later and I look much less like I have cerebral palsy, and more like an eighty year old with rickets. In short, I’m getting better every day. I don’t expect any sympathy as this was brought on due to my own stupid behaviour whilst heavily intoxicated.
What actually happened was this:
I was minding my own business in Cardiff on a stag party, when I spotted a litter of orphaned kittens. I went to pet them and give them some kebab meat, when all of a sudden and out from nowhere, a gang of evil ninjas appeared and ran towards the kittens with their ninja swords unsheathed. I knew that they wanted to destroy the poor kitty litter and so I had to intervene. I performed a perfect flying kick directly at the gang and took them all out in one go, killing four of them and leaving the other eight incapacitated. Unfortunately, I did not have time to remove my smart going-out shoes before performing this move, and so the full force of the impact was transferred into my heels, causing bruising and aggravating a previous injury where I had managed to outrun a hungry pride of lions but had to jump down a waterfall into shallow water in order to escape. Despite this new injury, attained while defending some kittens from ninjas, I was still able to survive a 30 foot parkour drop and roll to evade capture from the ninja’s wives, who were way more fearsome than the ninjas. I am a modern day hero and deserve respect and sympathy for my injury. Maybe even a medal of some sort from the RSPCA. I give them like £6 every month, for crying out loud!
The real story was covered up by the CIA and the FBI and MI5 in order to protect my identity. But I thought it would be safe enough to report it here, where no one will ever see it, because no one ever reads this god-damned pointless little blog of mine. Woo hoo!