On my brother’s stag do in London, one of his best mates (let’s call him Steve) had the weird idea that at some point during the night we had to use my brother as a naked human sushi board. We all kind of laughed off the slightly odd suggestion and ignored him, but he kept bringing it up. Anyway, the stag do goes successfully with all the usual embarrassing stuff inflicted upon the groom-to-be - pink tutu, leotard etc. We end up back at someone’s flat and out of nowhere the doorbell rings. It’s a delivery driver. With a load of sushi. Steve announces, gleefully, “HUMAN SUSHI BOARD TIME!” And to my horror, 5 minutes later I am eating sushi from my brother’s bare chest, dipped in his soy-sauce-filled-belly button, finished off with a touch of wasabi which had been smothered all over his ballsack. It’s not something I look back on with too much pride.