Anyway.
What I definitely did not do as I waited for the post-stretch dizzy spell to subside was get a photo taken of me in my birthday suit.
There were two reasons for this.
Firstly, Mrs P was immersed in The Block on telly and I knew she wouldn't take time out to go look for the camera.
Secondly, well, you just don't do you.
Unless of course you are a Hollywood movie star and you absolutely must have naked pictures of yourself.
Obviously, it's some Hollywood law. When you get a movie contract you have to have a nice car, nice house, publicist, manager, pool boy ... and naked pictures of yourself.
These pictures are then stored somewhere secret - presumably so the movie star can go have a look, on quiet days in the movie business I guess, in case they've forgotten what their bum looks like.
Now apparently these photos can be taken by a significant other or by oneself. The latter is usually accomplished with a cellphone and is known as a "selfie".
The danger with all this is that the photos always find their way into the real world which is inhabited by real people who don't have a publicist or a pool boy and are too busy trying to work out their Telecom bill (calling it Spark hasn't made it any easier) to even think about getting naked photos of themselves.
So we have to go and look at someone else's.
And, of course, that's what happened recently when all the normal people went online at once looking for leaked, naked pics of the stars (because we couldn't believe people who earn millions of dollars a year could be so stupid) and the internet crashed.
Now I know what they do behind the confines of their bedroom door (or mansion gates) is their own business, but I'm wondering just why they should feel the need strip off and get the Polaroid out (I know, I know. Polaroid. I'm showing my age). And it's not just one movie star is it? It seems they are all at it.
Must be something in the Perrier water.
Surely if it's a bucket list thing requiring maximum skin exposure, they would be better off streaking at one of those glitzy Hollywood award nights instead.
At least that way there'd be less chance of the internet crashing on us mere mortals and, like our very own streaker at the footy in Napier last week, they'd most likely escape any legal ramifications, presumably on the basis that a movie star streak is, in fact, like a community service.
I should point out here I didn't go looking at the leaked pics on the internet.
I wasn't allowed. The Queen, oops I mean Mrs P, had me doing the vacuuming and some other spring-cleaning chores.
Which I discovered provides some benefits for one's self-esteem.
"All that hard work you've been doing is obviously paying off," said Mrs P.
"Your legs are looking quite toned."
As I strode away manfully, I tried to tighten my leg muscles. This is nigh on impossible without getting cramp so I puffed out my chest instead.
My woman says I am looking hot, I thought to myself as I struggled to suppress a proud smile. Bugger the naked photos, think I'll work on getting North and South Korea together again.
Kevin Page has been a journalist for 34 years. He hasn't made enough money to retire after writing about serious topics for years so he's giving humour a shot instead.
