I HAVE never been a huge fan of spicy food. I tend to like my food plain, bland, tasteless and over-cooked - the British way.

So, for me, this wasn't the ideal way of being rewarded for my half-marathon exploits - especially when I discovered that my final meal would be the hottest ever cooked by the head-chef of Chislehurst's Dhaba restaurant.

My concerns, however, turned to complete horror when, only two days after the dare was announced, I read a rather disturbing story in a national newspaper.

Andrew Lee, a 33-year-old forklift truck driver from Edlington near Doncaster, had taken part in a 'chilli challenge' with his girlfriend's brother.

They competed to see who could eat the hottest sauce - made from tomatoes and chillis grown on his father's allotment.

Sadly Mr Lee was found dead in bed the following morning. He had suffered a heart attack. Only hours before his death he had complained of feeling itchy all over his body and was seen by his girlfriend furiously scratching.

Despite this sad news I decided to press ahead with the dare.

News Shopper: Dan Dares in training

Many of you kindly wrote in suggesting ways of easing the pain during my challenge. Most involved eating plenty of natural or Greek yoghurt before and during the challenge.

Others said it would help to wear loose clothes so that I don't overheat.

And so - armed with a yoghurt and baggy trousers - I set off for the India Spice Club in Orpington for a pathetically mild, but very tasty, Chicken Korma - a gentle start before my two hotter dishes.

Four hours later I was sat in the beautiful surroundings of the Madhuwan Indian restaurant on Bromley Hill for a beautifully cooked Lamb Shank with all the trimmings.

But this dare was all about the third and final meal - a Chicken Chilli Fry - the hottest curry ever cooked by Dhaba's head chef.

The first few mouth fulls were fine - I thought I would sail through it. But after a couple of minutes, my eyes and nose started to water and my mouth went numb.

I lost control of my tongue and lips and began to dribble food all over the table. But don't worry - I didn't cheat. I picked it up and popped it straight back into my singeing, burning mouth - and then all but licked the plate clean.

The evening which followed was volatile and peppered with significant bowel movements but at the time of writing - I appear to have suffered no permanent ill effects.

However, as a reader kindly pointed out to me - Ghandi's revenge usually takes time.