Okay – picture the situation. You’re sat in a bar. In through the door swims mega-Olympian Michael Phelps (he never walks anywhere). Emboldened by liquor, you shout “Oi! Phelpsy”. He doggypaddles over and eyes you up suspiciously. “Schwimming… it’s eashy”, you slur. Phelps doesn’t reply. “I bet you fifty quid I could shwim fashter than you!” you continue. Phelps narrows his eyes and fixes you with a steely glare. “I’ll meet you down at the schwimming pool, at 9am tomorrow!” you cry, and fall off your stool.
The following morning, at 9am sharp, you limp into the car park of the leisure centre, wracked with regret. Your hangover isn’t helping your panic, either – how on earth could you possibly beat the fastest swimmer on earth? All of a sudden, a huge limo pulls into the car park. It’s the CEO of Lunocet. He hands you a pair of foot-fins, winks, and screeches off, leaving you coughing in the dust.
Foot-Fins strap on to your feet and act like highly efficient flippers. When you kick, they flex and propel you through the water using an aerofoil (or in this case an aquafoil), in much the same way that planes travel through the air. They’re carbon-fibre, so you won’t break them in a hurry.
There are six gears, and you can change them while you swim. In the highest gear, the official site suggests that you can hit 8mph – twice the speed at which slow-ass Phelpsy swims at. So fast, in fact, that a strong swimmer should be able to leap out of the water entirely, like Free Willy escaping the harbour.
Oh, incidentally, you waited all morning and Phelps never showed up at the leisure centre. The next day you get a bill from Lunocet for US$1250, to add to your massive bar tab. Next time you’ll ask to rent them instead, and stick to the orange juice on nights out.