Bend it like Beckham

IT’S 10 o’clock on a Friday morning and I am staring at the floor. My feet are where my head should be, and my wrists are creaking under the weight of my body.
I have found myself in similarly-contorted positions on innumerable times in the past. Generally, there has been a lot of booze consumed the previous night. On this occasion, I am not hungover. This is a voluntary experience.