Mat Ricardo explains his daring new project...

I've been asked to explain myself. I did something that was, perhaps, a little unhinged and inadvisable, and have been told that people would like to know why.

First things first. My name is Mat Ricardo, and, for the last thirty years, I have, in a professional capacity, toured the world's theatres, clubs, festivals and street pitches, entertaining people with sarcasm, insults disguised as jokes, and tricks. Mostly tricks. Juggling, balancing, feats of dexterity and general circus-type malarkey.

I'm the first person in the history of the world to learn to put the tablecloth back on a fully laden dining table, underneath all the stuff (Video), which could either be a fine creative achievement, or a huge waste of much of my adult life. Possibly both. I'm digressing.

Here's the thing. Over three decades of making my living by performing these unique bits of schtick, I slowly started to realise that what I'm actually good at - where whatever amount of talent I have lies - isn't so much in one particular discipline, but instead, in the ability to learn stuff. Particularly fairly useless stuff.

Not the kind of stuff that would enhance my life, like languages, excel spreadsheets, or, y'know, confidence in social situations. No, I'm talking about the kinds of manipulative miscellanea that might well have died off along with the music halls were there not show-offs like me intent on seeking out audiences still eager to have their jaws dropped.

I am, however, on occasion, something of an over-sensitive, thin-skinned, wet tissue of a man. All too often, my natural state is to predict failure for myself. Surely everyone else is more talented, luckier and more confident than me. They're the cool kids, and maybe I should just sneak away and find somewhere dark, quiet and unpopulated in which to hide, just like I sometimes did at school. In the words of the great philosopher Homer (Simpson): "Can't win, don't try".

Which is exactly why I recently publicly announced a short season of my London Varieties shows and this frankly insane idea for a theatre show:

I have challenged the world - the entire world - to think of tricks that they think I can't learn. I'll pick the best ones, devote the next year of my life to learning them all from scratch, and then attempt to perform them all, live, in my new show Mat Ricardo vs The World, which will première at the Edinburgh Fringe next year.

It's the circus equivalent of an improv troupe taking suggestions from the audience from which they'll weave sketches. Except in circus, and I can't stress this enough, THAT'S NOT A THING.

The prospect of creating, writing and rehearsing these shows fills me with sweaty, squirmy dread. The possibility of crashing and burning is huge. I'm going, as they say, all-in. I've removed my own autonomy. Taken away my ability to change plans and back out. Deprived the future scared and anxious me of control over the present, momentarily confident me.

I've announced my plans to the world. Dared it to beat me, even. Now there's no going back. I've made my audience my boss, and, even though I'm sometimes unable to be happy myself, I can always prioritise making them happy.

I fear that the obvious critique will be that I'm being lazy and having strangers write my show for me, but the reality couldn't be more different. I'm having strangers tell me what my show should be about. I still have to write it, and, in fact, also live it. Suggesting I learn a borderline impossible piece of old vaudevillia is the easy part, I still have to spend long weeks and months locked in the mental prison of endless, boring, depressing practice. Spending every working day in a rehearsal room, attempting to do something which I cannot do. Failing over and over. And over. Until, hopefully, at some point, with enough dedication, focus and luck, I start failing to fail. This is the drudge that has been the scaffolding of my career, and it's more tediously depressing than a Simon Cowell sex tape. But it'll be worth it.

People who don't do circus for a living have a completely different angle on the artform - they won't suggest tricks they've seen or heard of - they'll suggest some crazy shit that they just want to see someone try. I'm up for that.

They'll push me in exciting new directions, or they'll fill my Twitter feed with impossible stuff they've seen in cartoons, and thinly veiled insults. Guess I'm up for that too.

This will be, I fear, the hardest year of my professional life. How hard it is, exactly, is up to you. But I have a feeling that it might also create the most unique show I've ever done. You be the judge - sneak peeks of the new tricks that you're already suggesting start hitting the stage in my variety shows this month, and there's still plenty of time to tweet me your craziest idea and then come and see me try it.

It's me vs you. Friendly contest though, right? Right? Please?

To challenge Mat, Tweet him via @MatRicardo. The rules are: 1. Nothing impossible; 2. Nothing that could kill; 3. No singing.