Twenty years ago, when Simon was a whippersnapper presenter on BBC Radio 1, he received thousands of letters from listeners confessing their darkest secrets and worst misdemeanours, begging for his forgiveness. Every day, Father Mayo read out a confession - and then he'd decide whether to grant forgiveness or not.

Read a classic Confession below, then Send Simon Your Confession

Dear Simon,

When I was aged 17 I worked for a small but up-and-coming advertising agency. Times were hard and business was very slow. Things were looking very bleak when suddenly my company was asked to devise a large advertising campaign for a multi-national company.

This was the break our company needed and we slaved for three months to produce artwork and ideas for the final presentation. The clients would visit regularly to see how the work was progressing and my boss was told that out of all the agencies competing for the vast account we had the most imaginative ideas and the account could only go to us.

As the deadline for the presentation to the clients grew nearer, my boss who was a constant chain smoker, became more and more worked up. On the morning of the presentation I decided to play a joke on him just to take his mind off what was a very important day. I obtained a box of exploding cigarettes - the sort that go bang and blacken the face of the smoker - just for a laugh I might add.

I waited for my boss to go out of the room and while he was gone I just had time to take out from his packet left on the desk. I crammed this cigarette with four exploding tips, not just one as recommended. I thought this would be more fun. I replaced the packet on the desk and waited to see what would happen.

My boss returned, picked up the packet and went about his business. I chuckled to myself all morning as he smoked another and yet another cigarette, but nothing happened. With all the preparation taking place for the final presentation to our main client at 2pm I forgot all about it.

The presentation went very well and the clients loved the new advertising campaign. As they laughed and joked about the special relationship they wanted with our agency my boss produced a packet of cigarettes from his pocket. He offered one to the company's Managing Director. I really wanted to stop my boss from lighting it for him, but I didn't want to look stupid. As he took the lighter away there was a massive bang. Bits of tobacco flew across the room. The client sat stunned with the tip of the cigarette hanging from his mouth. His face was black with soot and his expensive suit turned from cream to grey.

My boss sat there too, with sheer horror on his face and the look of a man who was about to lose everything. I can't repeat the conversation they had after that, but it started with "You silly bmmmmr". The clients stormed out of the room and all of the hard work we had done went down the drain.

It was lucky my boss blamed his 12 year old son for the unfortunate incident. It was very unlucky for his son who got a good hiding, couldn't go out for a month and had his school trip to Italy cancelled.

If it's any consolation, I was made redundant a month later due to lack of work. Please forgive me. I have never played a practical joke since and am now a hard-working hotel manager.

Yours faithfully,

John Smith