Day 12: Alakazam!

After being kindly bullied by my colleague Rami, I've amazingly managed to get my shit together and join the gym - something I've been saying I'd do for about a year. I've even managed to go twice in two days, and my body now feels like i've been failing to learn to surf on a tidal wave of toffee hammers.

If you've been following my earlier thoughts, you might recall I was slightly worried about the going-to-the-gym process. My induction went smoothly - Naturally finding myself nodding knowingly to everything the instructor said, unashamedly lying through my teeth about my previous experience with all the equipment, then later pretending I was catching my breath whilst secretly trying to read the instructions on the machines out of the corner of my eye.

The entire event was a glorious charade of confidence, going through a selection of entirely invented stretching exercises before throwing a towel around my neck in a Rockyesque manner. After an hour of following Rami around the gym like a pathetic mute sidekick, I felt like I was getting the hang of things and wandered off to try out machines ON MY OWN.

Changing rooms naturally bring up another set of fresh questions to be answered - primarily what the correct gym etiquette is in terms of letting other men see your cock. I've no shame in the matter - if anything it seems a little more graceful than the alternative method of shuffling your boxers up underneath your towel, a procedure which always makes me feel a little bit like an incredibly shit magician. I've been trying to imagine how Paul Daniels would pull off this tricky switch, but considering his catchphrase I reckon he'd be more the type to just slowly expose himself to the room whilst cheekily raising an eyebrow.

I've forgotten where I was going with this.

CONCLUSION: I am not Paul Daniels.