There’s no glamour in tombstoning, despite the TV ads – and I’ve tried it

A Hostelworld ad has recently been banned for portraying dangerous jumping, although that's not the only problem with it

The ad was filmed at the Ik Kil cenote, or water sinkhole, in Mexico, a popular tourist spot (Hostelworld)

Jumping, what a thrill it is. I like the build-up to a leap: you’re old enough to know that the human body isn’t designed to step off cliffs or bridges, but there you stand anyway, 20 metres (30? Humour me) above the water, about to manually override millions of years of evolution and fling your wingless, gawky frame into thin air.

I’ve only done it a handful of times, but I remember each jump like it was yesterday; the hurried prayer to Vin Diesel, the leap, the splash. If that isn’t living...

Of course, it might also be the very opposite. You hear stories. Maiming. Worse. So whatever one’s views on the joy of jumping off tall things into water (and mine are strident) you understand why the Advertising Standards Agency (ASA) this week banned an advert for the youth hostel booking website Hostelworld for its promotion of careless leaping – tombstoning, as the practice is known.

The ad itself is nonsense. Seven or eight backpackers stumble across a paradisal underground lake, strip naked, and leap into it, maintaining a steady hum of giggling and flirtation. Absolutely, I thought on first viewing, get the ASA involved. I only saw one naked person during a month-long stint in Hostelworld establishments, and he was a charming 20-stone German, who slept in the bunk above mine and snored tremendously.

The idea that “Charlie” from “Warrington” – our everyman here – would find himself doggy-paddling next to a nude Argentinian beauty, who even seems interested in his mind-numbing chunter (“so where are you from?”), strikes me as terrifically misleading. If memory serves, the typical night out with a Hostelworld crowd involves three people in tears, someone shouting at you in a language you don’t understand, and one Brit falling blissfully into a bin.

But the ASA took issue with something else: Charlie’s jump into the depths below. He leaps – cock-a-hoop, shall we say – from a much higher precipice than everyone else, and only after his “friends” in the water below tell him to stop being such a bloody awful lad and do it (I’m paraphrasing). The ASA issued an austere analysis of this scene: “We considered that the man was being presented in a more positive light for having done something which might be considered dangerous.” They’re not wrong. Charlie didn’t think twice. He sallied forth, survived, and now everybody wants a piece.

That is, indeed, a touch of spite. My “Charlie” moment occurred a few years ago, on a rock some terrific height above the Mediterranean. A small child had just jumped off, as a friend and I were clambering past. I was sure he’d been smashed to smithereens, but looking over, there he was, miraculously whole. At which point my acquaintance began to encourage me to do the same.

I pointed out how much heavier I was than this child, and how he had probably grown up in the nearby sea. Nothing doing. We stayed by that ledge. I looked over up to a hundred times more, thinking of angles of impact, and complaining about old sports injuries. By the time I jumped, 20 minutes of dithering had diminished the effect. Looking up from the water like an expectant seal, I received nothing more than a shrug.

Look before you leap, says the ASA. Not too long, is my advice.