For many years I have dived, canyoned, climbed, caved, ski-ied, white water rafted and bare backed rode white sharks. However despite the short term adrenalin rush their is always that slightly crumbled and creased aftertaste. Something has always been missing in my careless search for the ultimate thrill-but not anymore. A throw away Christmas gag has turned into an obsession- I am now looking to form the Languedocienne extreme ironing cell (English speaking but French, Catalans and Occitans accepted) and join the world brother and sisterhood of extreme ironists. There are many rivers to cross and many shirts to iron, but their ain't no mountain high enough, ain't no valley deep enough to stop this new ironing movement.