Ass whooping

White Lighting was his name. 'He's a strong one,' we were told. 'You beauty!' thought Craig, who envisioned himself speeding ahead of the pack on his thoroughbred donkey.

About five minutes into our hour-and-a-half-long donkey ride to the Valley of the Kings, 'speedy' White Lightning (as he was dubbed by Craig) turned into 'phsyco donkey of the century'. His screeching 'eey-ores' could be heard from miles away – we were told this was because he 'wanted to make sex' – and then, as we were plodding along a country lane, a rogue farmer's donkey became White Lightning's first victim. Craig's screeches were louder than that of a horny donkey as White Lightning bucked onto his hind legs and took the other donkey's head into his mouth. The sheer terror on Craig's face will never be forgotten, his saviour came in the form of a farmer, who ran from the field and tore the donkeys apart.

I, on the other hand, had the best donkey ever. Up near the front of the pack, my donkey didn't miss a a beat. It stopped where I wanted to stop, went fast when I wanted it to go fast, and it didn't try to eat any other donkeys – bonus!

We then went into a few underground tombs, saw lots of heiroglyphics, yada, yada, yada. Then, it was donkey time again!

Craig felt he had formed a bond with White Lighting, so he opted to ride him back into town. This time, instead of fighting, he was in eating mode, and Craig struggled to keep up with the rest of the pack as he was constantly making 'grass-stops'.

Once the journey was over, it was time for Craig and White Lighting to say goodbye. A quick pat and it was all over. White Lighting was herded off back to wherever he came from, and Craig hobbled off – as you do after three hours of sitting on a donkey!