I’m sat at my kitchen table. Facing me is a glass of what appears to be apple juice. It isn’t.

‘Are you seriously going to drink that?’ my flatmate shrieks with horror. She thinks I’ve finally cracked up.
I tell her coolly. ‘It’s completely fine, it’s the new health thing – in fact I think Gwyneth does it.’


For the record, she doesn’t. Even Ms Paltrow would draw the line with this debased health fad. Because what I’m faced with isn’t a pleasant glass of sun-ripened, hand-distilled Braeburn nectar. It’s my pee.

To backtrack a little, this is my first cup of a week-long challenge embracing the ancient health practice of urotherapy. Just so we’re clear – and you’re sufficiently grossed out (it gets worse) – that’s drinking your own urine or applying it topically for the perceived benefits of clearer skin, increased energy and general vitality.

But, here and now, confronted by a cup of my warm piss, my only thoughts are how the hell am I actually going to do this? 
I either neck it like a flaming Goldschläger, or copy the experts I’ve seen on YouTube, swishing it in my mouth for a minute to activate the digestive enzymes. Knowing the latter will cause me to forcibly hurl across the room, I bolt it down like a shot
 of liquid hell.

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