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The words are all mine, most of the pictures are not. Some of the words are not mine either.

Thursday, 6 October 2011

Why Exercise Will Be The Death Of You.

Picture the scene if you will.

There I was quite happily sat watching a few episodes of LOST season 2, the one where we learn about the others and Michael screams WAAALLLLT a lot, when all of sudden and without any prior warning my brain pipes up and says “Let's do some sit ups!”

I have no idea where that came from.

There was nobody doing sits ups on the TV and I have never found the time nor inclination to perform the ritual of sitting up over and over again.
The process of lying down on the floor to then sit up and fall back down again seems nothing short of stupid.

I don’t want a six pack or big muscles or anything like that. Mainly because if you have big rippling bulbous pecks and abs and whatnots the chances are you are more likely to be asked to move some heavy things from one end of the room to the other.

Whereas when you and pale and skinny and look like you are about to break into a sweat by opening a bag of crisps, people tend to leave you alone when manual labour is involved.

And that suits me fine.

I also don’t want to be fat either.

I have a little belly of course. In fact I tend to resemble a boiled egg with knotted string for legs. But that’s the body I’ve got and up until last night, I thought I was happy with that.

My brain, it appears, seems to have other ideas.

So, once I made the bed up (there really isn’t enough room to stand up in the caravan let alone begin a proper training regime, I sat at the end and allowed my body to relax.

My first attempt at a sit up contained the following noise as I slowly rose up to the vertical.


As you can imagine it was not a very pleasant sound.

I did not enjoy making it, and from the expression of the dog – he didn’t like to hear it either.
The thing is, as I lay back down again I realised I was not in any pain.

Surprised as I was by this, I expected my back to twinge or let out a little trump at least, and so I thought I would try another.

And I did.

What sort of person would find THAT sexy?
In fact I did 25 of the buggers before I gave up.

Quite impressed with the amount of sit ups I did I fell into a deep sleep with the anticipation of the Adonis like ripped torso that would greet me upon awakening.

Alas this did not happen.

I still have a rounded gut that hurts a little bit.

It also throbbed a bit when I came to tie my shoe laces.

I once joined a gym and did all of those exercises and weights and pulling things but it never really seemed to sit well with me. Being in a room with a load of sweaty strangers, all huffing and puffing and sharing the same air, just doesn’t feel healthy or right somehow.

I was even convinced by some of the girls I worked with at the time to join them in an “abs class”. Not knowing exactly which part of me was the abs part I thought I would venture into the unknown and give it a bash.

It turned out that this would be the last time I would go to the gym.

The abs class consisted of me and a load of women doing sit ups.... really fast.

I did three and then just swore at the ceiling for the next 20 minutes as every part of my back, neck and head seared with white hot damp lightning. The pain was too much to cope with.

Why in the name of the Fonz would anyone want to look so slim and taut by punishing themselves to such levels?

It’s not normal.

Forgetting about the posers and egotistical cocks who enjoy looking at themselves in the mirrors as they gurn their way through repeated lifting up of black circles of kilograms and noticing the putrid spray of salty puddles of sweat that surrounded the different machines and apparatus, added to the stench of pain and unwashed under arms and gussets made me realise quite quickly that the gym is not for me.

Therefore by proxy exercise is not an occupation I should be investing my time either.

Why then, some 8 years later, my idiot of a brain decides to force me to perform the one action I detest the most is a mystery to me.

Drinking cups of tea and having a good old scratch with the possibility of picking my nose once in a while are just some of the things I am best at. I enjoy doing these tasks.

I shall continue along those lines until the next my grey matter has another bright idea, where upon I shall have stiff words with it and remind it of these times when we could have shared a more relaxing time excavating my nostrils or having a brew with some biscuits.

Sit ups are not for me.

I think I will stick to just sitting down from now on.

 I have a theory – by doing nothing you will live longer. Insects do nothing but fly crawl and buzz around and live for about a day.
Tortoises do bugger all and live for a hundred years.
Proof, if any was needed, that exercise will kill you.

Sit ups are not for me.
I think I will stick to just sitting down from now on.


  1. Reminds me of brilliant Tshirt I saw the other day it said "Im in shape, rounds a shape"

  2. Where is this place of sweaty strangers huffing and puffing?? And is their strobe lighting and music of a Euro disco beat. If so, I'm in!...Oh, you were talking about the gym, well sod that then!!

  3. Hey Bumferry Hogart, (that name should never be shortened, NEVER) I left a lil something for you on my last post. It's just to say how much I enjoy your blog.

    Do with it what thy will.:0)


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