I can now report that trying to mow the lawn, trim the hedges (whilst up a pair of ladders), and generally prune the garden (raking the leaves was a particular bitch!) in the above footwear is not to be recommended: strange as the compulsion to do so might seem.
Why?
Because sprained ankles are only the entry-level abuse to your system if you do - that, and looking a consummate twat for a man of my age, haircut and singular catastrophe when seen in mid-air, falling, flailing, from a ladder, and doing what looked (to certain watching connoisseurs at least) like a double-Lutz-whilst-attempting-a-triple-Salchow-jump-rectification - all prior to landing in a crumpled and defeated mess on the grass.
Yes, the neighbours may have stood there clapping and shouting "Author!" at such an audacious, radical and spirited combination of aerial gardening manoeuvres (perhaps they just weren't ready for my interpretation of the Bolshoi-school of falling and making a balls of it?), but it played havoc with my standing at the local police-vs-neighbours Rugby match. Try telling your opposing number prop forward in the scrum that you were only doing this for a bet - he simply won't believe you. And why should he?
Fear not, I shall endeavour to bring you these nuggets of what-not-to-do on a semi-regular basis. It is, however, your job to question the validity of my decisions to pass them on!
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