A few months ago I joined the local female gym. It is brilliant they have lovely surroundings, friendly faces, great classes, a creche and all the attention to detail you would expect from a new fresh and recently opened gym. Of course I did what millions the world over do. Join, go once and then never go back. Sadly these fuckers are like having your very own Mafia, and not being content to get my money for nothing they are now holding a blow torch at my bare feet by persisting in sending me letters to encourage me back to the gym. The reality is the gym with all its fantastic fancy equipment is still the most torturous place in the universe, especially when you are over weight and your thighs slap together so violently it causes a small sweat tsunami in your pants which gushes down into your shoes. Add to this indignity the fact I know the whole time I am there I am contemplating what I can gorge myself on upon leaving. Crunch the name of the place is plastered from one end to the other, Crunch = Crunchie my friends, Crunchie, ummm crunch aaaahhhh. I rest my case. Oh and if they think they can Mafia me back by sending me guilt invested letters, yeah well I will go back to the gym, walk in, head straight to the shower room turn the fucker on to hot and stand outside for three hours and let the water run down the pipes. Crunch on that ladies.
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