Alastair Galpin
took to world record-breaking in
2004 after being inspired by a record-setting rally
driver in Kenya. What began as a hobby soon escalated
into an active publicity pursuit. Today, he promotes the
work of social and environmental causes. For these
purposes, the most fitting game plans are chosen; then
world titles are attempted and frequently created.
Sustaining sponsor
If you would like regular exposure from Alastair's activities, become his Sustaining Sponsor:
- A range of attempts annually
- Your brand in multiple media
- Distribute your own media releases
- Receive product endorsements
More details about sponsorship opportunities
Special thanks
|
Behind every world record attempt is the expertise of professionals in their field. Their success underpins Alastair's. |
| They are listed here |
Most socks worn: 70
This is the story behind my Guinness World Record™ for the Most socks worn.
I bet you that I like my socks more than you like yours. Let me
explain: I'm certain you wear yours for a purpose such as going to
work. So do I, but I also went to the next level to prove that I have a
special relationship with my hoard of socks.
When I was asked to appear on television doing a
world record, I was immediately excited by the possibilities. One of
the people assisting me arranged for a large box of socks to be
donated. I grabbed it as a child would snatch an overdue gift. These
were something great to play with. Within hours, I'd laid the lot out
on my lawn where I spent the afternoon admiring and pairing them.
I tried this world record once and, finding it
relatively easy, knew I would be good at it. So when the day arrived
for me to show the TV viewers how much I loved my socks, I was feeling
rather confident. As the TV crew, helpers and by-standers occupied
themselves with the things they needed to prepare, I laid out pair
after pair of socks on the concrete outside the studio, in order of
size. Not just any size categorisation, though: I was measuring each by
the size of the venturi-like stitching between the 'foot' part and the
'leg' part. My enlarging sock-encased foot would need to fit through
this constriction, so it was most important. And if you had never given
this a thought – don't worry; neither had I until this fantastic
opportunity arose. It was going to be good; I could feel it in my
bones.
There was no time limit, so I could pull on sock
after sock at my leisure. And so I did. As I sat down at one end of the
very long line of socks, the TV presenter thrust his furry microphone
into my face, wanting to know the most intimate things about me: were
these all my socks?, why wasn't I satisfied with wearing just one
pair?, what had possessed me? I answered honestly, but that might have
been to my peril. He kept the microphone there. I tried to ignore this
thing in my face as I reached for the next sock, the next and the next
in a line that stretched a long way.
I reached out, slid the
next sock on and ruffled it into place. Using my arms, I picked myself
up and swung my buttocks to the side where I lowered myself and
continued. The microphone followed. All this time I was being asked
about how it felt, what I thought I was doing and what I expected to
achieve that day. It made me feel that I was obliged to say something,
so I kept speaking. My concentration was split between paying thorough
attention to the world record attempt and being wary of what this
presenter was going to ask me next. Of course, I couldn't dedicate
myself wholly to both. It wasn't long and the presenter casually
mentioned into his microphone, “This isn't an infomercial, Alastair”.
Yes, I should have guessed that was going to happen. When I then
decided not to speak, I found the presenter prodding me for chatter.
What to do!
Thankfully, he found a
new source of interest.
The socks were beginning to resist my efforts to pull them on. I had to
tug each one, wipe it over the ball of my foot and pick at its open end
to get it sitting on my leg properly. The next thing, there was blood.
I was so hyped up that I had failed to see my hyperactive tugging had
scraped the skin off my knuckles. I kept going. Only when someone
mentioned it did I see the raw flesh I was dragging against the hard
thick layer of material. Straight away I felt nauseous. The First Aider
brought plasters and a glass of water, and I continued.
From then on, the challenge would be gripping
each sock to force it on fully, not battling to get the next over my
toes. I pulled and pulled and my fingers were being rubbed raw every
few minutes, despite the plasters. I was not prepared to give up even
though my foot had come to resemble a solid lump of heavy material in
which the presenter was expressing renewed interest.
I kept manipulating the socks and the presenter
kept hovering around me very closely. It got to the stage where I was
spending more time on one sock than I had spent on ten at the
beginning. We decided it really was time to stop. I agreed, since my
world had shrunk to just three things: blood, socks and the TV
presenter. I needed to escape.
Then, do you think I could get the tenaciously
clingy socks off? No. This provided almost as much entertainment
because I needed help and plenty of time. When, eventually, I did get
the last sock off, my foot was completely numb. I massaged it and tried
to stand. All I could manage was a limp at first.
Minutes later, though, I was able to hobble off
to complete the admin. That made me happy once more; I'd just proven my
love for socks and I had a positive feeling I would get this world
record.
That night, on the TV news, my world record
attempt appeared. I watched with delight, knowing that I had done it.
Several news items later, a political discussion was aired. Much to my
surprise, the parties referred to me and I felt privileged to be
mentioned in such a serious arena. This world record was then listed in
the contents of a European education programme, it got some attention
from local newspapers and it appeared in a book of national
achievements!
Years later, I am still wearing those socks. They're excellent quality. In fact, I am wearing a pair right now while I write this story. How I love my socks!