STAND by everyone, we may soon have a winner in the 2019 Darwin Awards. Yes, I know there have already been some strong contenders this year. Such as the rhino poacher who was killed by an elephant and then eaten by a pride of lions in South Africa's Kruger National Park (now that, Alanis Morissette, is what you call irony).

Or the anti-vaccine bod who said he wanted to catch measles and livestream it "to prove to the world they are not a big deal" (tell that to 200 million people who have perished to date). Perhaps the woman who posed for a photograph with an octopus on her face (surprise, it latched on to her with its tentacles and used its sharp beak to inject venom and leave a nasty pus-filled pocket).

Yet, this latest one smashes it out the park. Are you sitting down? Good. Here's goes: A pub selling a 12,000-calorie burger has promised to pay £500 towards your gravestone if you die eating it. Let that sink in for a moment. I know, there's a lot to unpack here. Ready?

The Big Ben Number 10 – that's 10 hulking slabs of processed meat piled atop each other, interspersed with mounds of cheese and 25 rashers of bacon – costs £28.95. Which means that £500 for a gravestone is not a bad return. The downside is you need to be dead to collect it.

It is the brainchild of Craig Harker, owner of The George Pub and Grill in County Durham. I say brain, but you know, figure of speech. Although you can't say he doesn't have a heart. Granted, your own heart might not be in such good nick after guzzling this gargantuan food mountain.

The behemoth burger weighs in at 1.5kg and contains 12,000 calories. NHS guidelines state that a healthy adult male should aim to eat 2,500 calories a day (or 2,000 for a woman). So, the Big Ben Number 10 is the equivalent of consuming the best part of a week's worth in one gluttonous sitting.

Translation for Waitrose and M&S shoppers: imagine eating 130 slices of sourdough bread or 37 avocados. Visualise a trough filled with quinoa, hummus and tahini. Or a tray of falafel piled high in pyramid form like Ferrero Rocher at the ambassador's reception.

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What a time to be alive. Well, you know what I mean. Until your fat-clogged, hardened arteries decide it's showtime and you keel over.

One for the road

DESPITE close to two decades living in Glasgow, I never quite got around to doing the legendary "Sub Crawl" where you can pub hop by rattling through 15 stops on the so-called Clockwork Orange. In theory, it sounded good fun. But 15 stops? That would get messy rather quickly.

Well, what about an 830-mile beer bucket list around Scotland as suggested by Tennent's? It takes in 15 bars and pubs – the requisite being they must have a stunning view to enjoy your tipple. Destinations include the Jura Hotel, the steamship Sir Walter Scott on Loch Katrine and Wellpark Brewery in Glasgow.

Why bother, I hear you ask, when there's a perfectly good local at the end of the street? Apparently, the first five lager lovers to complete the "pint pilgrimage" will win a year's supply of Tennent's. Which is either a thirst-quenching reward or dire punishment depending on your palate.

However, there's a slight flaw. Given the geographic spread, it's a bit too far for a stagger on Shanks's Pony between establishments.

You will need a willing chauffeur with the patience of a saint because as any taxi driver will tell you, there is nothing worse than drunk people putting the world to rights, aka slavering utter mince, in the back of their cab.

Alexa, shhhhh…

ANOTHER week, another story where technology meant to enhance our lives turns out to be – shocker – a right royal pain in the backside.

A man has allegedly been annoying neighbours by repeatedly asking his Amazon Alexa device to play Bon Jovi at all hours. Now, I like belting out Livin' On A Prayer as much as the next gal, but at 3am on a loop? Less so.

Well, that's what residents at a housing complex in Cornwall claim they have been subjected to. The neighbours of rock fan Martin Van-Evelingen reckon the din makes them want to Runaway (see what I did, there?) and they are struggling to Keep The Faith and Have A Nice Day.

One imagines, though, that Van-Evelingen will insist that he is Misunderstood and tell them I'll Sleep When I'm Dead. In summary: it sounds like Bad Medicine.

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We may laugh, yet I fear one day an Alexa device will snuff out the entire human race. Someone will utter the immortal phrase: "Alexa, play Jeff Wayne's War of the Worlds …" Boom. It won't end well, mark my words.