I  took on ultimate Guinness World Records challenges with ZERO practice… it was brutal, bruising & I nearly vomitted

IT’S Britain’s most-thumbed-through annal that celebrates the nation’s eccentricity, wacky weirdness and humanity’s achievements. 

From the man who hasn’t washed his hands in 34 years to grow the world’s longest fingernails to Dua Lipa’s most monthly listens on Spotify gong and fastest man Usain Bolt, the Guinness World Records has documented accomplishments of all kinds. 

Simon JonesSun features writer Josh Saunders took on four Guinness World Records – including one that involved anchovies[/caption]

Simon JonesAnother saw him attempt to land more than 4 kisses a second with partner Jenny Troy[/caption]

Simon JonesRed-faced reporter tries to blow a stamp 10 metres[/caption]

Now celebrating 70 years since it was first introduced in pubs to settle arguments and sell more pints of its namesake’s Irish dry stout, The Sun has taken on some of its trickiest challenges.

As a youngster, I remember flicking through the annual, enamoured by the spectacles including the world’s tallest man, who measured 8ft 11in and five times taller than the smallest person. 

Since then Adele’s taken a gong for largest continuous outdoor LED screen, astronaut Tim Peake set the fastest marathon in orbit and Sir Elton John had the highest-grossing music tour ever.

All of those feats and every other imaginable record in between has been immortalised in the book, which has sold 155 million copies globally since its inception. 

So the opportunity to try to become a Guinness World Records title holder was a daunting yet thrilling challenge like no other. 

As part of an initiative to show the feats are “accessible to anyone”, I took on four of 70 unclaimed titles in one day. 

Yet I’d soon discover ‘accessible’ did not mean easy. It led to mass bruising, near vomiting and surprisingly-aching muscles, as I battled through sky-high minimum requirements to beat the records and strict rules.

Settling upon most t-shirts put on in a minute, most anchovies eaten in a minute, most kisses in 30 seconds by a team of two, and the fastest time to blow a stamp 10 metres, I naively didn’t think practice would be required. How wrong I was. 

My nemesis, ahem, adjudicator Joanne Brent, 36, who’s officiated hundreds of records including the longest wedding trail in Taiwan, most people baptised in the Philippines and most attendees in a yoga event in India. 

Mine attempts seemed rather pale by comparison. And the self-professed “very strict” judge with a keen eye for cheaters, lucky me, insisted they would be tougher than they appeared. Something I’d soon discover. 

Simon Jones‘Really strict’ adjudicator Joanne Brent watching a most t-shirts put on in a minute attempt[/caption]

Simon JonesJosh prayed to the Queen, also a GWR record-breaker and featured on the stamp, for luck[/caption]

First up, the kisses, which had a high minimum of 138 or 4.6 smooches per second to break the record. 

I’m warned my lips must come away from the skin between each peck, meaning even less time. 

Drafted in was my long-suffering partner Jenny Troy, 37, who was exhausted from a long night caring for our three-month-old daughter.

‘Like low-budget porn flick’

Per the rules, should we both attempt it we would need to alternate kisses. It risked losing valuable time and the only logical way to plant the kisses would be to line-up head to lips. 

Each of the three maximum attempts for a record are filmed in slow motion and analysed by GWR adjudicators to ensure the “air gap” is present, which measures how many pecks count. 

“It’s too tough,” I warn my partner and decide to be the sole smoocher, cueing “it’s the most affection you’ve had in years” type-jokes to roll in.

Grabbing Jenny’s head in a vice-like grip, palms planted firmly either side of her face. The countdown starts. 

My head furiously pecks at her check, as she smiles, grimaces and laughs in shock.

As the seconds tick down, I feel like I’m in a loop of constant whiplash from kissing back and forth, and blinking incessantly, for reasons unknown. 

My lips dry out quickly, a furious smooch-clicking fills the air and my jaw aches. By the time 30 seconds are up, I’m panting like I’ve sprinted a mile. It’s harder to beat than it seems.

Two more attempts follow, without knowledge if a new record has been set or not. 

For my final go, I try a sloppy splatter-gun approach – removing all Jenny’s make-up in the process – as she yells “faster, faster” like we’re in a low-budget porn flick. 

‘Breathless & bruised’ 

While awaiting the results, next up is blowing a stamp 10 metres – the height of a three-storey house – in less than 15 seconds.   

After sticking paper to the adhesive underside to prevent it from getting stuck on the floor, I stared into the eyes of our late Queen, Elizabeth II – a GWR winner for longest reigning monarch – and prayed to her for luck. 

Two practice runs yield unsuccessful. One sees the postage piece levitate high in the air, costing vital seconds, and during another the stamp gets trapped under a sofa – forfeiting the attempt.  

My first official go is too slow at 17.63 seconds. The second, I take a different approach after consulting my ‘council of coaches’ – videographer Steven Cholerton, photographer Simon Jones and teen work experience Nelly.    

Simon JonesA stomach-churning 200g of anchovies were needed to be eaten in one challenge[/caption]

Simon JonesSun man Josh barely scratched the surface, scoffing less than half[/caption]

We agree that instead of racing on hands and knees, an army crawl is speedier. Keeping my face to the floor is a must, despite the friction pain and bruising, to blow straight and not veer off course. 

With each blow, I shuffle forward and the stamp hurtles closer to the line. With a final giant puff it flies across and breathlessly, I beg, ‘Did I make it?’ 

Having expelled all air from my lungs, I lie in a heap, horrifically out of breath and find out it was 13.98 seconds – claiming my first Guinness World Records title.

Filled with childlike excitement, I relish in my first-class attempt and know I’ve definitely left my stamp on the day. 

The power of becoming a record-breaker fills you with disbelief, relief and jubilation in the knowledge you’ve made a small mark on history – but that would joy soon dissipate. 

Project vomit close call

My least favourite challenge was up next – most anchovies eaten a minute, which had a 200grams minimum, roughly seven tins, to beat it.

The rules stipulated one-hand must be behind the back at all times, each fishy chunk swallowed before another was eaten and any remnant food left in the gob after the time limit spat back onto the plate to measure the weight.

For this, I’d consulted serial competitive eater Randy Santel, who has beaten 1,372 food challenges across the globe – including many in the UK – and Katina DeJarnett, who has conquered 269.

“With only one minute, you don’t want to fill your mouth because chewing is a waste of time,” American Randy warns. 

“Chew just enough so you can swallow and then move onto the next ones. Feel free to chase each with liquid to swallow faster.” 

Opening each tin of salty fish, the queasiness-inducing stench overwhelms me and a small crowd of GWR staff amass, who in seconds will bear looks of disgust and horror. 

My plan to gulp them down fails as several lodge in my throat. I choke, splutter and begin to dry-heave. I try to chew but sickness sets in. 

“30 seconds left,” Joanne yells, as I stare down at the barely touched plate, once covered with 21-plus matchbox-sized anchovies. 

Once my time is up, I’ve gobbled less than half – officially 96grams. My second attempt, through endless heaving-sounds, yields just 60grams. 

I call it a day on record number three fearing I would spray the room with vomit should another go be had. “Plenty more fish in the sea,” I think, nursing a pained stomach.

‘Michelin Man lookalike’

Finally, and the only one, I have semi-practiced for – most t-shirts put on in a minute. The minimum is 25, based on serial Guinness World Records title breaker David Rush.

In just 30-seconds, the American – who has slayed 150 challenges, including 15 in one day – managed to slap on 20 tops. It’s a feat I naively believe will be easy.

Simon JonesThe t-shirt attempt left our reporter looking like the Michelin Man[/caption]

Simon JonesJosh with his two Guinness World Record certificates[/caption]

Having studied the man-machine, he lays t-shirts out in a circle, lining them up two per row and the tees in oblong shape with the neck and arms holes open for speed. 

David puts one arm through and uses the other to pull the fabric below the waist, as required by the rules, while simultaneously moving his knees to the next pile. 

Arranging my t-shirts, which can’t have any rips, takes several minutes and demands attention to ensure they are placed from medium-sized to a 4XL for the finale.

When the record begins, I race through the first couple but botch dressing attempts by getting my arm stuck. Later I realise I’ve not pulled all t-shirts, back and front, below the waist. 

It’s surprisingly exhausting work and adrenaline-fuelled handshakes further slow the attempt. By the timer’s end, I’ve managed just 12 t-shirts, after deducted tees, less than half needed. 

The next time, I manage 13, and after a final whack, following a false start for jumping the gun, saw only 12 approved t-shirts accepted. 

Sweating profusely and breathlessly panting, this Michelin Man lookalike has failed yet another attempt, yet good news tempers the defeat.  

The results from my snog-a-thon are in and I am, indeed, a superspeed smoocher but whether or not I broke the 138-kiss minimum was very much down to the wire. 

My first attempt landed 112 and the second tied the record, but my final, a whopping 163, with 17 disqualified due to no ‘air gap’ between the cheek and my lips. 

Collapsing to the ground with hearty laughter in disbelief, I’d achieved my second Guinness World Records title with 146 smooches. 

This meant with discounted kisses included that I landed nearly 5.5 snogs per second, an utterly bizarre boast for anyone. 

Praised for my “enthusiastic attempts”, I’m handed two sizable framed certificates confirming my two record-breaking challenges by strict-rules enforcer Joanne. I remain in disbelief.

Exiting the GWR headquarters, near London’s Tottenham Court Road, I hobble down the road lugging more than 30 t-shirts, remaining tins of anchovies and the oversized diplomas.

Passing people in a street, a weird sensation flows through me. I’ve broken Guinness World Records, yet no one would be any the wiser. I resist the urge to tell everyone near-and-far. 

Travelling back, the knowledge sets in and it feels like having a bizarre superpower, a secret pride that you’ll forever carry unless you shout it from the rooftops. 

For despite the records being weird and wacky, knowing you are the best in the world at something – until someone usurps me – is a remarkable feat that I’ll cherish for the rest of my life. 

Last year alone, 40,842 people applied and just 2,897 managed to beat the target. But with practice, determination and creativity, you too could join this club of worldwide winners.

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