Jonny McCambridge: From the dip in the sofa to Prison Island … enduring the physical, mental and skills tests

I am in exactly this situation when my wife enters the room to make a startling announcement.

“We should do something different as a family this weekend.”

‘”Hmmmm,” I reply.

While my response may seem inane, it is actually devilishly clever. It is evasive and non-committal yet shows that I am alert and prepared to engage. It also stalls for time while I seek further information. I’m not sure I much like the sound of doing something different. No part of something different is likely to involve lying on the sofa.

“What did you have in mind?” I inquire cautiously.

“Why don’t we try Prison Island? The wee man would love it.”

The concept is unfamiliar to me. A quick Google search is carried out. The simplest way to describe the Prison Island concept would be to remind readers of the format of the old telly programme The Crystal Maze.

The website states: “Gather your friends, form a team and attempt to solve exciting challenges in our themed Prison Cells. We have 31 Challenge Cells with a superb mix of Mental, Physical and Skill based games.”

“Well, what do you think?” my wife asks.

“I think they like using capital letters for no obvious reason.”

“But doesn’t it sound like fun?”

“Well, it says mental, physical and skill-based games. Mental, physical and skill are three of my weakest areas.”

I read some more of the website: “Get ready for fast paced engaging fun for all.”

I groan inwardly. It goes on, breaking breathlessly into italics: “Do you have what it takes?” I suspect very strongly that I do not.

“Well, shall we go?” my wife continues. “Hmmmm,” I reply.

However, I am nothing if not a pushover. Two days later we standing at the reception area of Prison Island. My wife and son deal with the important business of choosing a team name while I am assigned the task of putting our coats away. A friendly young member of staff gives me a key to a locker.

I go to the locker, stuff the coats inside and insert the key. It does not turn. I take it out and re-insert it, but the result is the same. Using my full range of physical attributes, I attempt to force the key to turn. It does not budge.

A thin film of sweat breaks out high on my forehead. It occurs to me that perhaps skill, rather than physicality is the solution. I lighten my grip on the key and begin to jiggle it, moving it slightly forward and back. Still it will not turn. The friendly young member of staff approaches.

“Are you ok sir?”

“The key to this flipping locker doesn’t work,” I respond testily.

She removes it and observes the key. Then she holds it up, smiling. “This is the key for locker 15. You’re trying to put it in locker 13. See where it’s marked on the label and the locker?”

I nod my head slowly, utilising the full range of my mental capacity.

“Yes, yes, I see that now.”

It occurs to me that this is not the most auspicious beginning. My wife and son approach. “I fear we’ve made a terrible mistake…” I state.

We are given an explanatory briefing and then go towards the area which contains the challenges. My son takes responsibility for the fob which needs to be scanned to gain entrance the rooms when it becomes clear that I was not listening at the part of the briefing which explained how to use it.

The first room we enter involves shooting lasers at targets on a distant wall. My wife is disturbingly proficient at this and my son also surprises me with his skill. “My gun doesn’t seem to be working,” I moan over and over.

The challenges go on. There are tasks which involve climbing across rooms without allowing our feet to touch the ground (clearly not designed for someone with my size of belly) or finding hidden buttons in a room full of giant inflatable balls.

Other tasks involve using a series of handles to attempt to manoeuvre a silver ball across a cage without dropping it or kicking a ball into a target. I am terrible at them all. The worst horror is the mental challenges. I cannot solve even the elementary puzzles in the Einstein room and a task which requires us to form an electric circuit to illuminate a lightbulb ends with the three of us standing puzzled for four minutes while I awkwardly attempt to avoid the gaze of my expectant son.

At the end of the hour we have paid for, the friendly young member approaches immediately to get our feedback. “What was your favourite room?” she enquires.

“Hmmmm, it would be difficult to single any one out,” I respond.

There is a giant electronic scoreboard on the wall. All I can say is that we were not the worst team ever to compete. I decide the best thing to do is to escape Prison Island, back to the safety of my sofa. I move towards the door and push it. It does not budge. I push it again. Still it will not give way.

The friendly young member of staff comes to my assistance again.

“Hit the green button,” she says. “The one which says exit.”