I’ve always been a little dubious of the whole ‘teambuilding’ thing encouraged at work, but when one of the papers I work for organised a paintball/go karting/dinner and drinks day of fun, I couldn’t really resist.

Unfortunately, I let it be known in work that I was terrified, terrified of paintballing. I’d never actually been before, but had friends who returned from such excursions sporting golf ball-sized welts in uncomfortable places. So I wasn’t too keen to venture into paintballing territory myself. The guys at work seized the opportunity to poke at my fear though and by the time the day rolled around, I was palpitating with fear.

We arrived at the activity centre, were divided into two groups and piled into our musty camouflage overalls.

‘This is gonna be the last thing you see,’ said Gareth with a cackle, as he pulled his Darth Vader-like mask over his face. Great. So this is how it will be. Death by paintball.

Of the five games we played, the first was the worst – mainly because the initial shock of just how loud the guns are hadn’t fully set in. Our team also lost that game.

But in suppressing the fear, turning it into anger and getting trigger happy, I discovered I’m a pretty good shot. Even from afar. Our team went on to win the next four games, making us the overall winners. Hurrah! And yes, I even found that we all bonded a little over hastily drunk plastic cups of water (that tasted a little like grass) during game breaks. The rain stayed away, I didn’t get hit much and I actually got some exercise. What’s to hate about it?

In the end, despite doing well enough in the go karting, the fumes eminating from the warehouse (it was indoors) were too much to bear at times. Light-headed and hungry, we boarded the bus and went straight to Koh. The cocktails here are to die for. So is the food. The two actually compliment each other very well (as one would expect from an upmarket Thai eatery) and as a result, the experience reminded me of one of my favourite HK haunts, Lotus.

So yes. I’m all for teambuilding…as long as you can handle sporting a few shiners on your body and are prepared to be sufficiently hungover the next day.

But now for a car update. Firstly I should explain that Swinger is the name of my Opel Corsa, so-called because the word Swing is emblazoned on some of their mid-90s models. Odd, I know.

Anyway, after I crushed the bonnet I brought wine-coloured Swinger to the panel beater, Sam, who fitted her with a red-coloured bonnet. She may look ghetto as hell but she still drives like a dream and there ain’t no way anyone is going to want to steal her now. I am indebted to Sam – he worked through the weekend to help me out and is off on his holidays today. He deserves it after hauling me out of a potentially disastrous (and expensive) situation. I’ll take red bonnet Ghetto Fabulous over crumpled to shit Swinger any time of day.

Guns and ghetto wheels. If it weren’t for the pain in my hamstrings and the half-eaten honey waffle beside my bed, I’d hardly recognise myself.