Fat Man Wanted 5 Mornings a Week...
A couple of years ago, Karen placed a tiny ad in the local paper for a gardener. Ever since then I don't even know where Arthur stores the lawnmower and I have no inclination of finding out. That's the power of advertising!
This afternoon I shall place a little ad that will go: "Fat man wanted five mornings a week��"
Every evening I will be able to indulge in all the things I love, without so much of an ounce of guilt. I will begin with a whole garlic bread, a plateful of Algerian Merguez sausages, a juicy 16oz. Peppered steak, two bottles of Montepulciano, three pounds of Continental cheeses, a whole French stick, a breeze-block-sized slab of sticky toffee pudding, a large Brandy coffee and a box of After Eights. I might, if the fancy takes me nip to Forty Second Street or Chicago Rock for a swift half dozen Buds and then head home for a well-earned rest.
Fatso, my new employee, he will willingly get up at six and head for the local gym with a spring in his step. He will do half an hour on the treadmill, on maximum speed, at a 45o incline before settling himself on the rowing machine for ten or twelve miles. Next he will do two or three rounds of the weightlifting circuit where he will be using the maximum settings and at least twenty pounds more than any else present. After ten miles on the cycle, he will do 50 lengths of the pool before sweating half his body weight in the steam room.
My alarm will go off just as gets out of the Jacuzzi. We will enter both hit the showers at the same time. I will feel so fit that I will head for work with a spring in my step and at least ten pounds a week lighter. If I feel that Fatso needs a kick up the backside I will start him on an incentive scheme, something like 50p extra for every pound I lose above and beyond my target.
Now this is what I call keeping fit!