Well, I did it. I completed the Chilli Challenge – and my guts have got the scars to show for it.
Family pride has been restored and, in front of an audience of literally tens of people, I did something that I will never have to do again. Thank God.
After the Living Rugby Twitter banter all week, there was no way I could avoid it and so, after our 30-30 draw with Rotherham (they got 14 points in the last six minutes so the less said about that, the better), I went to the Sports Bar at Meadow Lane to face my fate.
For those not in the know, the Chilli Challenge is something that is taken on most weeks by some poor fan or player after a Nottingham game in the Meadow Lane Sports Bar and involves eating a raw chilli or chillies that have been grown in the garden of one of our loyal fans.
As soon as I walked into the room, I was pounced upon after my bravado all week, and led to a table which had one large red chilli and one small green one on it.
They even gave me a latex glove to put on my hand and avoid any fiery pain in the nether regions when I went to the loo afterwards!
Looking like some weird sort of mulleted Michael Jackson with one glove on, I approached the table and was so caught up in the situation that I picked up the chillis with the wrong hand anyway!
I tucked into the red one first and soon realised that was the mild one.
It wasn’t too bad – as far eating raw chillis go.
The green one was something else, however.
Just a few bites in, and with the crowd in fits of laughter, tears began streaming out of my eyes and sweat was dripping off my forehead.
My mouth was on fire. Likes bolts of flames were being shot from one side to the next.
My only solace was a bread bun that my dad said would ease the pain. He was right too.
The final mouthful went down after about 15 minutes’ agony, soon followed by terrible stomach ache.
But I had done it.
Thank you and good night.
(PS: This blog may well return to rugby-related issues next week)
Read more posts from Dave Jackson here.