"A COUPLE of rounds? No problem, I'll look forward to giving you a good hammering."

Hearing these words from the British heavyweight boxing champion made me wonder if I had grown reckless in my enthusiasm to complete my sacred list.

Under the guise of offering support, a friend pointed out that this challenge may actually be the thing I do immediately before I die.

He then suggested I take out the more painful and crippling challenges from my list and concentrate solely on the more pleasant, alcohol-related, activities.

I shook my head with woe, feigning disgust at his cowardice, but later reconsidered this sage counsel as I watched Scott The Hammer' Gammer giving a heavy punch bag a savage beating.

I arrived at Pembroke ABC gym in the early evening and realised to my dismay that I was expected to take part in a gruelling training session that included skipping, running, bag work, press-ups, sit-ups and squat thrusts.

I just about managed to keep up with most of the exercises except skipping - which is, after all, a little girl's sport, only one notch up from hopscotch.

Drenched with sweat and barely able to lift my arms, Scott suggested now would be a good time to try my hand at sparring.

I had considered waiting until Scott wasn't looking then hitting him in the face and fleeing to a waiting car.

However, it crossed my mind that some supporters of the noble art may not consider this to be good sportsmanship.

Coupled with the fact that Scott knows where I live, I rejected this idea and resorted to plan B - actually sparring with the 17 and a half stone pugilist.

After getting into the ring and untangling my extremities from the ropes, Scott gave me some more one-to-one coaching.

This ended with me being punched in the face and cheerfully advised to always keep my guard up.

While by Scott's standards this tap' was playful, I still caught a brief glimpse of departed loved ones beckoning me towards the light.

We boxed for two full rounds but in gloves I was unable to pinch and scratch, as I normally would in a fight.

I was therefore delighted that I did manage to land a few punches on the skilful champion.

Having this taster into the world of boxing did give me an insight into the level of fitness and skill necessary, and the terrible feeling of dread that some must feel in the ring with a fighter they cannot possibly hope to beat.

After the bout I persuaded Scott to hit me as hard as he could on the arm so I could gauge the level of pain that his opponents could expect to feel.

I hope to regain the use of this arm over the coming weeks to enable me to continue my daredevil antics.

This experience is definitely one I will be telling people about for years to come and, thanks to Scott and his dad Ralph, this is certainly one of my most enjoyable challenges to date.

While Scott landed a few lucky shots, I would say overall I won the fight.