Adult Material - For those of you of gentle or faint dispositions probably best to stop before you start this particular blog...

Extreme Sport - definition -  "having a high level of inherent danger".

Adrenaline is rising. In this arena of highly-charged emotions, testosterone-filled warriors jockey for position. In these pre-match moments, the pushing and shoving is but a shadow of what will follow in the following two hours, when all those present will, at some point, be liable to risk of physical violence and mental/verbal abuse.

Once I'm in position, I know there is no escape. No escape at all. The arena goes dark. The speakers turned up to ear-splitting level; a sudden silence as the formalities take place. And then, within an instant, the moment of truth.

The referee blows his whistle and I'm 'down pub', in one of the biggest in the town centre watching Manchester United and Chelsea thrash out the Champions League Final... it is, indeed, extreme support of the most extreme kind.

Sitting next to me are another bunch of 40-somethings (with the odd 50 something thrown in for good measure); one is an antique dealer (who normally watches games like this in the comfort of his own lounge whilst sipping wine from a white, french grape), a computer consultant who likes to take people on extreme cycling trips, and an IT head (as opposed to a 'S*IT head', who seemed to be about four rows further back) . All mature, sensible blokes. We're sitting in the front row, whilst behind us gather a mass, and I mean a mass, of 'extreme pubbers' who seem hell-bent on experimenting in every way possible with the english language to demonstrate that their own commentating skills are far superior to those of the faceless professionals emanating from the sound system.

"Aw, f*** off Ref you f******* b******! What the f*** are you playing at you c***".

The dreaded moment arrives when one of the teams score. It's United. Now what? Do we cheer and risk getting 'noticed' by the Orcs in blue or say nothing and risk being singled out by the devils-in-red ? Forget enjoying the action replay , we've got important decisions to take here.

We decide to go down the general bluster, head nodding/shaking route. Our accents have audibly changed in a matter of a few moments to those of almost genuine football supporters. "Aw, naarh - can't believe it - f*** me!' Yep, we're getting positively bullish in there...

Thankfully just before half-time the boys in blue score too. We go through a similar round of delighted/devastated expressions and expletives. And then in a moment of pure theatre the referee blows his whistle for half-time, the neon strip lights are blasted on as if we're going to be interrogated, and three large snakes of beer-filled warriors form out of those assembled.

Snake number one spits and curses as it moves like an arrow, smashing down the bar on the emergency door; fresh air hits my face, followed all too soon by the rush of smoke being blown back into the pub by the now fully exited human snake; as the door blows the wind open again, a large huddled mass of warriors is visible on the fire escape puffing for all they're worth. Clearly preparing themselves for another 45 minutes of extreme sports...

Meanwhile snake number two has managed to coil entirely around its victim -  the bar staff - and squeezes and squeezes until it has achieved the magical position of being served a few more pints.

Somewhow I find myself an innocent member of snake number 3. This snake has no choice but to move swiftly, and uncomfortably up the stairs in search of its prize - a urinal that you can pee in without needing to wear an anti-nuclear suit. Just walking in to the smell-hole-from-hell, made me realise my extreme sport training is still very much 'a work in progress'.

'Oi, that geeza wot u was torking 'bout - ee's bollocks ee is', shouts out a young gentleman from one of the wall-mounted units. 

'Yerrrh, I know' comes the reply from his colleague, who is mysteriously located behind a locked lavatory door  - 'e's bollocks, e is.'

Returning to my seat I do a quick head count; all my friends are still there, thank God. They're talking about something - haven't got a clue what, and I'm not sure they have either since you'd be doing well to hear a 747 above the cacophony of footballing insights being bandied around by our extreme sport experts.

Miracle of miracles, someone managed to join snake number 2 and fill my glass. At least I hope that was someone from snake number 2 and not number 3. Next to me my antique dealer friend is beginning to earn his extreme sport colours and is starting to get excited by the thought of violence and confrontation. Mind you, when you're 6 foot 3 you can probably confront a bit more confidently.

The lights are off again, snake number 1 reappears in a frenzy of activity and  as the second half begins the extreme sporters shout  more and more loudly everytime someone on the pitch commits a foul, demanding heavy tackles and red cards, my antiques dealer friend amonst them. The sofa and chardonnay seem a long way away now...

Full-time goes into extra time. A red card comes (much to the delight of many it seems)  -  and the cup is decided by penalties. Cheering, booing, shouting; lights on -  the room is awash with blotchy faces and pumped up emotions.

Risking the wrath of all the United fans we manage to get up and sidle out of there, cursing, smiling, and pushing as we go in the manner of true extreme sporters. Out, out into another dimension - a world of fresh air, peace and space.

Returning home I find my girls curled up on the couch watching the last few devastating moments of 'Desperate Housewives'. I go out into the garden for a few minutes of silence and fresh air and stars. For a spiritual life-coach, it's been an interesting night...

I set myself a question for further investigation. If I wanted to 'reach' those blokes in the pub, where would I start?

You know it's a funny old world isn't it? I mean, who would have thought twenty odd years ago when I was writing and producing house music and the like that today I'd find myself championing a cause such as breastfeeding?

If you'd placed a £1 bet then, you'd probably have become a millionaire now!

And yet here I am, having spent much of my spare time in the last weeks, poring over government and global statistics as I dig deeper in my quest to support the cause of breastfeeding.

That journey has thrown up some fascinating discrepancies in the message that has appeared to be emanating from the NHS about the apparent success of their breastfeeding campaigns. Those discrepancies we will be revealing today in a press release that coincides with a couple of lectures being given by The Mother magazine editor Veronika Robinson as she addresses an NHS Breastfeeding advisors' conference in the West Midlands.

Watch this space for the update...now then, where's that drum loop?

Well now this might sound a bit weird, but this blog post is celebrating the passing of someone very special in my life.

My 20 year old Volvo 740gle. Bear with me a minute.

You see, this car, or the Big Friendly Gasguzzler (BFG) as he was affectionately known by all of us, has chaperoned our family and friends through years and years of changing times. The BFG has protected my daughters as they have grown from children to young women; the BFG has helped move a whole garden of plants, been the emergency van for many house-moves not only ourselves but also for friends who couldn't afford hire transport; the BFG has taken many groups of sometimes 7 plus children from home to secret party destination or education experience; the BFG has escorted us excitedly through the joys and delights of weddings and christenings, and taken us with dignity to the hospital visits and funerals of clients, friends and family.

Being environmentally aware, the BFG has had to pay its way ecologically; this he has done by often restricting the need for two vehicles (and receiving grateful thanks along the way from parents not needed to make that return party journey!); he has also removed the need for commercial pick up of bigger items - amazing what we could get in the BFG when the seats went down as well. The back became like a beautiful carpeted palace...

So, this is my public acknowledgement to my car; you served us selflessly; you provided us with experience after experience of magic, hope, joy and sadness; you helped us get the things we needed, and shelter things which just couldn't fit anywhere else during torrential downpours. And you did it all without asking for anything back.

And now? Now you provide the ultimate sacrifice; allowing yourself to be recycled, every part of you, so that the love which has flowed through that life with us can continue to flow into the lives of many, many more.

Thanks BFG.

I don't normally read the papers; however this week I bought my mum her DT as I sometimes do, and I noticed a couple of stories that suggested that maybe we really do  need a massive financial shake-up and fiscal collapse in order to wake up to the gross misunderstandings that seem to exist in the money world.

One story was describing the growing awareness of the world food shortages and the suffering that is already taking place; it described the difficulties many people found themselves in, and the struggle for survival. Staple foods such as rice and wheat are beginning to come in short supply and major producers are already reducing exports.

The other story detailed the monies earnt by the five most successful hedge-fund individuals in the last year. Each one earnt over $1billion. I'm not a financier so I don't really understand hedge-funds that well, but what I do know is that it flies in the face of Universal Law; hedge-fund earnings are created by gambling on the price of something at some future point. Basically these people are buying and selling things neither they, nor their vendors, even own. And they're earning fortunes doing it, whilst others, who are trying to live in the present moment, can't even afford a bowl of rice.

Whilst some make billions out of thin air, others create a few more days of life out of scraps. Whilst this type of disconnect exists, we will be forced to become ever more conscious.

Do we need a financial collapse? Well, I'd love to think that we're capable of creating a parallel reality that values life above all things, a reality that can gently and lovingly subsume and transform the old paradigm of greed. But with many grasping and grabbing and earning money at all costs, whether that will be possible or not only time will tell.

I've worked with many business people who have chased money at the cost of emotional and physical wellbeing. I've learnt much from them all, including this;

A life spent chasing greater and greater sums of money is one of the most barren existences a person can live and ultimately leads to an existence of loneliness and dissatisfaction. A life spent creating happiness in the present moment is priceless and constantly creates a new and exciting experience.

Well blimey - after weeks of mucking around with recording equipment and months of chewing the cud, or whatever it is one chews when contemplating new adventures, I have just uploaded the first podcast show - click here to play it. It's just a trial at the moment to test out the techno side.

Ah yes, back to the old recording days. What fun! And what with Winnie and Anna both featuring too, and Sophie providing some of her beautiful singing talent for jingles (yeah, I'm biased, but so what) - it's quite a family affair.

Features will develop as we go along, and in a few months I'll probably listen back to this first episode and wonder what I was doing! Still, we've already got a framework evolving; the show will give listeners free access to lots of ideas from our years and years of coaching, seminars and writing; and we'll be featuring special guests, starting in this episode with our 'Tell me who you are' feature, where we get someone to contribute their dream for global change, and what the first steps to achieving that dream would be.

We've got a 'book of the moment' and of course we'll always have an inspirational story...or two...or three...

We'll be encouraging you to challenge that stuck conditioning and get you thinking right outside the box...  and don't hesitate to provide us with your feedback.

Party on down doods...