When I was a kid, pancakes weren't a common staple in my house, reserved only for Shrove Tuesday or the occasional Sunday morning McDonald’s breakfast.

But as the years have passed, the American-style fluffy treat is now a firm favourite of mine - and seemingly, the rest of the country.

So naturally, when an email dropped into my inbox on Monday detailing Kent's biggest pancake challenge, I was all ears.

It informed me The Post Office in Margate’s Cecil Square was offering an almighty stack of 10 thick pancakes covered in chocolate, Lotus biscuit crumbs and a berry compote - accompanied by a house milkshake to wash it down.

Polish it off in less than 30 minutes and it’s free. Failure brings with it a £25 bill and a battering of pride.

I look at a photo of the dish in question. No bother, I think. Looks quite small. Actually, I’m worried about this being dubbed a food challenge. Will this be enough on its own? Am I simply being invited to enjoy a slightly oversized breakfast?

While pancakes hold little nostalgia for me, the TV show ‘Man v. Food’ does. Watching Adam Richman destroy ultra American-sized portions was as entertaining as it was gut-churning.

But it often made me think ‘I could do that’ or ‘how hard can that be?’

Time to put my money where my mouth is.

After calling up to book myself in, I make the trek down to Margate. In typical fashion, it hasn’t stopped raining. I’m cold, wet and hungry. A storm is brewing in the stomach.

I enter The Post Office - which has dropped the word "old" from its name - and notice how upmarket it looks.

I wonder if I'm in the right place. It doesn't look the type of establishment to offer gut-busting food contests.

I'm greeted by a friendly man in a salmon-coloured shirt, who welcomes me in.

“You’re Max, aren’t you? From KentOnline?” he says with a big grin, introducing himself as Nick Parry.

I suspect Nick’s smiling because he believes this challenge to be beyond my capabilities.

I’m shown to my seat, and as I wait, Nick and I talk. He seems chuffed to have me here.

He tells me he’s been running the restaurant for about a year with his wife, and it's now beginning to take shape, with special thanks to head chef Jamie Olive and sous chef Chloe Dolbear.

“We really want to be a place that accommodates anyone," he says. "We’ve got no airs or graces about us here. We’re also dog-friendly.”

Sounds great, and I’m convinced. It’s hard to imagine a more charming, welcoming and classy restaurant.

“Friday night is steak night, Sundays is for roasts," Nick tells me, adding: "You should come try one - if you can stand the sight of food after this.”

He nods over to the kitchen area behind me, where I catch a glimpse of the gargantuan stack being assembled - and my confidence dwindles.

Rather than the slightly over-indulgent breakfast I imagined, the enormous meal is the biggest thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on.

That might be a tad dramatic, but I feel well and truly overwhelmed.

Then, disaster strikes. The sense of hunger that had been building up - ready to attack this sugar-laden feast - vanishes.

It's like my stomach has sewn itself up, ready to reject whatever I thought I was about to devour. I see the pancakes pile up, reaching the magic number of 10.

Then comes the chocolate. There’s no mercy shown here, either. The thick sauce drips across the surface of the stack, oozing down as Jamie and Chloe team up to garnish the plate.

Along come five scoops of chocolate ice cream, and five squirts of thick whipped cream. A vibrant red berry compote is dolloped on top of the ever-growing tower, along with a generous scattering of biscuit crumbs for good measure.

I watch in trepidation as Jamie brings it over to me. It looks as though he’s having to summon all the strength within him just to make it to the table with the huge plate.

He does, however, look thrilled to bits with his offering. The chefs at The Post Office enjoy a lot of freedom, and this dish is certainly representative of their creativity.

Along with the food comes the house milkshake, as promised. Fine Belgian chocolate blended with ice cream to create what is at least a litre of ‘thickshake’. On its own, it’s a hefty portion, but it pales in comparison to the pancakes.

I stare into the abyss, wondering what I've signed myself up for. But before I can dwell on the magnitude of the challenge for too long, Jamie whips out his timer.

“Half an hour,” he says, before wishing me luck as he and Nick chuckle at my impending failure.

And like that, we’re off. I’ve not even had time to find my knife and fork. I peer over the stack like some sort of sweet-toothed overlord. Where on earth do I even start?

One-by-one? Section by section? What about the milkshake? What about the cream?

Conscious of the timer ticking away, logic leaves my mind and I start cutting away, my knife slicing through the pancakes as if they were butter. Ordinarily, that’s the sign of a beautifully-cooked meal.

And for the first few bites, it is. The pancakes are fluffy in texture, moistened by the chocolate and the berries. The first taste is heaven, and I make a point of letting Jamie and Chloe know this.

Half of the challenge is the size of the portion - the other half is time. Nick and Jamie are impressed by the headway I initially make. It feels as though I blast through the first few minutes, and for a brief moment, it looks as though Nick, Jamie and Chloe might be worried their challenge is too easy.

That moment is soon shattered as I hit a wall quite early on. About four minutes in, I’m told. The further down I get, the heavier the pancakes become. Less shielded by the garnish on top, they’ve gone slightly cold, and spreading whipped cream or chocolate ice cream on them doesn’t seem to make the bites any easier to get down.

I thought I had a sweet tooth but this is next level. It also makes me realise that all the pancakes I’ve ever eaten have been accompanied by savoury items. How I wish I had some salty bacon to break up the sugar overload.

There’s no time to stop though, and I plough on, but the weight of each bite is slowing me down by the second. What started off as a sprint has come to feel like mile 20 of a marathon.

About 15 minutes in, with a lot less progress being made than in the first five, I really do hit a wall. Everything I do makes me feel sick. I really mustn’t be sick here. How pathetic would that be?

I decide I must do what true champions do. Quit while I'm ahead. There’s no shame in quitting, especially if the alternative is throwing up the entirety of the dish back up onto the Italian marble table.

I look at the half-eaten stack of pancakes that mocks me. A fearsome opponent, no doubt about that. I call Jamie over. Take it away, I cry, before trying to find any position that can offer me even a glimmer of comfort.

Nick comes back over, that smile still on his face. He tells me I’ve done well, and that out of the two people to try the challenge so far, I’ve been the best. That’s somewhat reassuring.

I sit for a few minutes, pondering my decisions in life. I wonder if anyone will be able to complete the challenge. I suspect they will. I also suspect it’ll likely be the skinniest person you could imagine.

I share the news of my failure with colleagues and friends. One suggests I make my eating challenge a weekly occurrence. My brother tells me he could easily do it. He’s more than welcome to try.

The truth is, the challenge did beat me. Kent’s biggest pancake challenge is not one I am capable of doing. But do I regret giving it a go? Not a chance.

It was a pleasure to meet some genuinely lovely people succeeding in doing what they love. You get out of life what you put into it.

And with that, I decide to make good my escape. £25 lighter but a few pounds heavier, I can’t wait to have a lie down.

Nick invites me to come down whenever I like, and to keep an eye out for future food challenges that might come from the twisted minds of the chefs.

I think I might do just that. But please, no more pancakes. I’ll leave that up to you.

The challenge launches today, with customers able to take it on every Saturday between 11am and 2pm.

If you think you have what it takes, get in touch with The Post Office in Margate to book your place. How hard could it be?