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Ruby del Pyramid-Scheme, UFO, BSE of Atlantis

The homeopathic alternative to decision making.


If youíre anything like 24ís Jack Bauer, then the chances are youíll spend at least one day before the end of the year torturing terrorists and attempting to rescue family members whilst averting nuclear incidents and political assassinations. If youíre nothing like Jack Bauer then something else will happen, probably.


Given that one all-powerful supernatural being is as good as another, going all American and claiming youíre serving ďGodís willĒ seems like a better way to get your Dive Club to agree funding for a new RIB than saying ďthe Devil made me do itĒ. Unfortunately, thereís something about you in particular that really irks Mephistopheles and he challenges you to a CESA off. Whoever can do the longest horizontal CESA wins, in your case, a new RIB, and in his case, your soul for eternal torment. You canít win though because heís all-powerful. Idiot.


Itís the regional dive championships and being the diviest diver in your region, you feel confident of securing the top cash prize of £4.70. Unfortunately, due to one of the most tedious and frequently encountered etymological mix-ups in the subaquatic world, itís a high diving contest and you find yourself perched on a springboard an unorthodox 42 metres above a worryingly shallow swimming pool in full Scuba gear. The enormous gathered crowd leads you to believe this is one of those anxiety dreams and in a moment youíll find yourself naked if you donít plunge tank first into the water. About halfway down, the horrified screams of the enormous gathered crowd alert you to the fact that itís not a dream.


With a liveaboard trip coming up, the perfect preparation seems to be a trip to the dive shop to buy a new mask. Unfortunately, whilst trying on an ancient Chinese mask the owner mysteriously discovered in the basement that morning, you realise you canít remove it. At first this seems funny but then you realise thereís no way itís coming off. Doomed to wander through life from hereon bemasked, your perception of the world alters irrevocably due to the way people now treat you. However, after several debilitating months, it dawns on you after studying, I dunno, The Matrix or something, that what you now perceive is actually the true reality. Being able to see through the cleansed doors of perception ought to offer up myriad life-enhancing benefits for you and those around you, but it eventually transpires that youíre just mental and had been holding the mask to your face by breathing in through your nose all along.


If you know anyone whoís anything like 24ís Jack Bauer, then the chances are youíll spend at least one day before the end of the year being kidnapped by terrorists and tortured and possibly killed by a deadly virus or a bit of radiation or a gun or something. If you donít know anyone whoís anything like Jack Bauer, then unfortunately this will happen to you anyway.


Having invested the entire contents of all your pension schemes into the dive trip of a lifetime to Isambard Kingdom Brunel, the members of your dive club are bubbling with excitement as the beginning of the holiday looms ever closer. Unfortunately, those bubbles are burst when someone does a rudimentary search of the internets to discover that Isambard Kingdom Brunel was a civil engineer, not a country. At this point it also transpires that Daily Mirror Dive Holidays Group is an organisation that no longer seems to exist.


You inexplicably and noisily come up with the idea of Scuba 60 years too late and struggle to be taken seriously by your dive club after that.


Due to a similar mix-up experienced by Sagittarius, above, you find yourself jumping out of an aircraft at an implausible 60,000 feet in full Scuba gear but, crucially, without a parachute.


If youíre the kind of terrorist that gets involved in high energy plots on American soil using inside contacts in various counter-terrorism departments to get the job done, my advice is to leave Jack Bauer alone or it will just end in tears. If this doesnít apply to you, Jack will kill you anyway for sport.


A trip to Stoney takes an unconventional turn when it transpires that no one in the van knows how to read a map and you spend the next six and a half years lost in the British countryside, feasting on ramblers until your eventual arrest.


Youíve been going through a Harry Potter phase recently, reading all the books, seeing all the movies, and purchasing swathes of low-quality merchandise. None of which explains how you manage to encounter a killer whale in Wraysbury, or why it bites your jaw off.


Stop drinking seawater.

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