Last one left in the pool is a sitting duck... for sharks

LET'S talk about irrational fears. As a kid, I used to have this constant fear of being in a swimming pool on my own.

As soon as I was the last one left, the terror was on. It came in the form of a shark.

I still, to this day, have no idea why, but every time I was the last left in the pool it became a frantic race to get to the shallow end and get out, because a ferocious shark was at the other end, making a beeline for me.

How did the shark get into the pool? He certainly didn't stroll up in his budgie smugglers, chuck his towel over the fence and dive in.

But I still did the same thing every time I was the last little dude in the pool.

It got me thinking about other people and their fears. My Nan never got her licence, mainly because I imagine she'd go completely bananas behind the wheel.

But it always puzzled me why she never did. It's not that daunting.

Sure, as a 70-odd-year-old lady the time to learn the art of driving may have passed her, but she could at least have given it a whirl.

This same woman always makes a special order at McDonald's with her burgers, so she knows that they're made fresh.

It never crossed her mind they could just throw the pickles off and serve up the exact same burger; Ronnie Mac is one wily hombre.

What about the people who have a total fear of flying?

I always figure if your time is up then it's up and there's no point worrying about how or where or when you're going to go.

In saying that, there's no chance I'll be jumping in Gladstone Pool at 5am for some early morning laps, on the off chance I'm the only person in the pool ... the Jaws theme music still starts just thinking about it.

Question of the Fortnight:

Would you rather be as strong as an ox, but have no brains, or an ox with incredible intelligence?