I love a bed of anything. Bed of lettuce? Here for it. Raised beds for boosted drainage? Take me there. You made your bed, so lie in it? Thank you, I will. Today, though, I’m wondering if I’ve found my limit. Because the word “nails” gives one pause, doesn’t it? Most wellness words are soft, even misty: spirulina, bioavailable, Gwyneth. “Nails” is different. Nails are unsensual, uncalming items that get hammered into chipboard. Or clawed into your back, if you get into bed with this week’s trend.

Sleeping on a bed of nails is historically associated with ascetic Hindu holy men, who sleep up poles and walk on coals. Easy to dismiss, but given my own antisocial tendencies, and the property market, my last online search was “pole, good location” on Zoopla, so I’m not above giving the nails a go. The maker of the Bed of Nails (£70) claims that, among other things, the mats may alleviate chronic pain, insomnia, headaches and daily stress. All of the symptoms of being alive in 2019, basically.

The small, coloured mat aims to stimulate relevant pressure points by prodding every millimetre of one’s back with the 8,820 plastic points of its cleats. Effective, if crude. The thing looks like a troubled soul has arranged 20 rows of upturned beer caps on a lilo. (A sign the stag do has entered a dark place and is now over.)

I unfurl a pink model, and carefully lie down on it, before immediately squealing like a piglet and shooting back up. On a subsequent attempt, it transpires that lying on a bed of nails is easier than it looks: it works by spreading pressure and sensation over a large area. Once you’re down, you’re dandy – but getting on or off involves concentrating all your weight on a few sharp points for a moment, which is not so dandy. I put on a thin T-shirt, which is recommended while you get used to the stabbing sensation. I lie down with more confidence. I squirm as the warm flushing sensation rises up my back. It’s weird, but … not bad weird.

Is there anything to its claims? Acupuncture does have a proven effect in chronic pain management across a range of conditions, with a prior belief in its effectiveness the most important pre-condition. A damning caveat, although entire careers in government have been sustained by less. This isn’t even acupuncture, though. This is acupressure, its Diet Coke cousin. Less invasive, more scattergun.

The pleasure of the mat proves even more pronounced on bare skin, which is how it should be used. When I try it topless, the initial pain is greater. The arch of my spine means the lower middle of my back isn’t taking much pressure, so the sensation at its base is uncomfortable. But the relief also proves to be greater. After five minutes, the discomfort is bearable. After 10, I’m enjoying myself. There is no pain, only a warming tenderness, the feeling you might have after a strong massage. In fact, I drift off.

How does one make a bed of nails aspirational? It sounds like a hardcore Norwegian metal band. Well, first, this one has been branded “Bon”, which you have to admit is clever. The website features a chestnut-haired woman reclining on her Bon, next to a page of a book that says: “You’re the answer to your question,” which is so wellness. I’m not sure this actually applies to me – my second-to-last online search was: “How tall is Noel Fielding?” so the equation doesn’t make sense. But I like what they’ve done there.

When my alarm goes off after 20 minutes, the recommended usage time, I’m reluctant to get off and not just because I’m going to make that piglet noise again. I feel relaxed and stimulated at once. My back is marked with pricks and creases, like the contours of a giant brain. Wild. I don’t know if my meridians are more open, or if my chi is rampant. I don’t know if it’s any good for tendonitis or cellulite. But it lets me lie down and it gives me a tingle, and that is really all I’m searching for. When it comes to aspirational living, gimme a pole, some coal and a series of nails. You can stick your kale.

Most piercing revelation

Am I an Indian fakir now, or just an Anglo-Indian faker? I experience a rush of identity politics as blood rushes to the surface of my skin.

Wellness or hellness?

Can’t hurt (though it doesn’t not hurt either). 4/5