Tortured in China.....

I don't know what's worse....

 

Just logged into the 'family' email account to find 2 mails what set me going...

 

First was a 'special offer' promoting a new range of ladies underwear. Naturally, I couldn't resist, which was a bit like a kid being taken into a sweet shop then being told "ONLY JOKING!! GET OFF HOME AND DO YOUR HOMEWORK!!" -  I stupidly thought the 'special offer' might be the entire range being shipped over here, with my wife being strapped to the box to model them, albeit for a few brief moments.

 

Next up, my good friends at 'Room at the Top' in Congleton - home of the finest breakfast in the world - sent me a photo of my fave Sunday morning treat (assuming nothing related to the previous paragraph was on offer). Oh - I could kill for that breakfast (minus the egg - I have never eaten something that comes out of a chicken's arse!). Someone tells me there's a place not too far away that serves an English brekky, so that'll give me something to do at weekend. Sorry if I sound like a tourist on holiday in Spain looking for 'Lineker's Bar', but I'm gagging.

 

I went to the gym tonight, and did half an hour's running and ended up in exactly the same point I started - never moved an inch! What's the bloody point? I was all hot & sweaty, even when the machine was set to 'recovering from illness'. Mind, it made me hungry, so I went straight out and had a huge bowl of noodles and 2 sticks of kebabs. Is that what being fit is about? I wanted to get rid of my belly, look like a hunk and have the stamina of a porn star, but if I have to eat noodle and kebabs everyday to do it - so be it!!

 

When I was 'running', there was a telly on in front of me, which was hard to operate when running like Usain Bolt, and there was no bloody sound, but it was advertising the upcoming tennis final between Miserable Bastard Murray (think that's his name) and Nonob Dodgydik or whatever he's called. I hope Murray wins, because the f*cker might finally look happy. Mind, I think if he does, he'll drop his shorts to reveal his undies made from a Scottish flag. Then we should ban him from Wimbledon, and I'll take his place, because by this time next year, I'll be fit as a fiddle and hung like a race horse...which you'll all see when I win what Murray hasn't, and I drop my pants, too...