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As I predominantly push myself with my feet, I'd had it made to my own specifications by a company that is now defunct. I'd worn my ass-groove into the cushion; a comfortable rut in which I sat all day. But last year it became clear that it was finally about to give up the ghost.

So after the usual rigmarole of going backwards and forwards between Access to Work and the NHS wheelchair service to sort out who'd pay for a new chair, I set about finding someone to make it for me. I just wanted a wheelchair which would get me from A to B and is balanced such that I can propel it with my feet. Alas I made the fatal mistake of picking the worst possible people to make such a chair - a company run by wheelchair basketball players!?!

Now don't get me wrong, I've got nothing against the sport nor the people who play it - it's just never been my cup of tea. The one time I sat through a whole game, I left with a nosebleed after the ball bounced into the spectators' area and hit me square in the face.

I've never been into sport generally, probably because I was never good at it. I've even tried Boccia (pronounced Botcha) - the typical 'sport' played by people with CP. It involves trying to get your coloured balls closer than your opponent's coloured balls to a white jack ball. It's similar to crown bowling but even less exciting.

After just one game I'd decided that the heavy cut and thrust of a Boccia tournament simply wasn't for me.

Communicating effectively with sporty disabled people has always been difficult; our conversation usually tails off after I confess that I neither play nor watch wheelchair basketball. Having CP means I lack the co-ordination to tie my own shoelaces, so it's beyond me why the hell they should think me capable of aiming a ball into a hoop suspended 6 feet above my head!

When my wheelchair arrived 4 months late, and far from my specifications, I knew communicating my frustration to its makers would be difficult.

My eighteen-month old son pulled one of the brakes off within hours of it arriving, but the company representative didn't see this as a fault when I rang to complain: "I take my breaks off all the time to change tyres for basketball."

There was a long pause before I replied: "...but I don't want my brakes to come off; I want them to stop the wheels moving. I thought this is what brakes did!"

We agreed to differ... but the problems didn't stop there.

The chair's air cushion is fitted with a valve which lets a bit of air out whenever I sit down, giving the impression that I'm trying to unsuccessfully let out a silent fart. Moreover, the huge 6 inch front castor wheels wobble from side-to-side whenever the chair goes above a snail's pace. This means that I have effectively paid three grand for a wheelchair which isn't even capable of rolling down a hill! Stone Age man mastered this simple task but apparently it's beyond sports wheelchair designers. How the hell you're meant to play basketball with vibrating castors is a mystery to me.

Well, I've all but given up trying to get my new wheelchair into working order - it's been sent back to the factory twice but the problems still haven't been sorted out.

I have at least developed a way of communicating with wheelchair basketball enthusiasts, though. I now bore them by talking incessantly about my own choice of sport - bungee jumping.

This effectively stops the conversation dead whilst they consider the effect that dangling from a piece of elastic rope would have on their spinal cords.

I got a taste for bungee jumping whilst on holiday in New Zealand a while ago. I expected they would insist on me taking some kind of medical test but instead it was incredibly inclusive.

In order to be given an equal opportunity to fall out of a cable car suspended midway between two mountains, all I had to do was sign a waiver form. If only everything in life was that easy.

It may be a bit Beyond Boundaries-like for some of you, but bungee jumping is really my ideal sport; it requires absolutely no co-ordination skills whatsoever. The key attributes of a successful bungee athlete are a certain amount of stupidity and the ability to fall over - qualities that I possess in abundance! (Incidentally these are also the key attributes of a successful Beyond Boundaries contestant)

In fact I reckon I could be a bungee world champion. If only it were a Paralympic event.