When it comes to stress, few things get me going  faster than my missus. Traffic and slow internet are another two things that drive me insane. Oh, and people that eat so f****** loud.

Come to think about it, quite a lot of things wind me up. And until now, there’s never really been a way of dealing with it.

I’ve tried everything, from shouting to meditating. I’m just one of those people that can’t deal with stress.

If only there was somewhere I could quite literally smash the s*** out of – without any pricey consequences…

If only there was… A RAGE ROOM!

Well now there is.

Camera della Rabbia!

 

 

The stress busting geniuses in Italy offer angry visitors the chance to let loose in a room full of stuff to smash for 10 minutes, costing €15.

You’ll be equipped with a club, safety helmet, shoes, gloves and protective knee and elbow pads.

There’s  a 40 minute option (€35) for the crazy – which includes a DVD of your experience at the end.

Admittedly, by the time you’ve got a plane to San Marino or Bologna and driven to the stress busting shack, chances are you’d have calmed down a bit.

But if you’re ever floating about in Italy and need to let off some steam, this is definitely the place to go.

Just make sure nobody’s in the room at the time.

 

Here’s some other rage rooms worth getting stressed over…

 

And in the words of a Vox journalist:

As I lobbed a plate against the wall, I wondered: When was the last time I broke something on purpose? There must have been some moment in childhood when I smashed something in a primal rage, but nothing came to mind. Maybe I don’t remember, but I’ve always been a rule abider, and it’s entirely possible I’d never broken anything on purpose in my life.

I was demolishing dishes at the Wrecking Club, New York City’s original rage room. A rage room, for the unfamiliar, is a place where you pay to go break stuff. It’s one part fitness phenomenon, a kind of anti-yoga, but it’s much less about working out than about the unusual experience of smashing things to smithereens.

Female rage is all the rage these days. It has launched a thousand think pieces and served as the subject of two recently released books — Rebecca Traister’s Good and Mad and Soraya Chemaly’s Rage Becomes Her — that treat the centrality of rage in the feminist movement, and mad women more generally. Anger has been a clarion call of sorts for women on the left since the 2016 election: Get mad.