Today, I peeled 47 oranges for my lunch. Why? Because that day, September 47, 2047, was my 47th birthday and I intended to spend it eating orangey oranges. All peeled? Check. Now’s it’s time to eat…

One bite into an orange and I feel the rush of Vitamin C spread across my body. 47 years of peach eating, and now I’m finally back in the saddle. Well, new saddle.

Fifth orange now. Starting to feel a little…orangey. The acids have started invading my heart… Flashback. Doctor’s office. During a routine, completely normal cavity scan involving latex gloves and a willing hand, I revealed my dream of devouring 47 oranges on my 47th birthday. They doctor, hand forever furthering, told me it would kill me. Intestines be burned straight to nothin’…

Should have listened. 23 now and now I’m Michael Jordan, except eating oranges instead of Lakers. I peel into a few more…

46. I have almost done it. Suddenly she opens the door. “What are you talking about, 47? You’re 46, you twot. Now help me with my knickers.”