Ah yes.....and now I hand the floor to one of the king's of the stag do. Mr hardcore himself - Jeremy!
Ah yes....my favourite Lishman line....
Going back about maybe two years ago now when i still had the man boobs, myself and Alan made our biannual commitment to get fit, and having been a fully paid up member of fitness first for the previous six months (as was Alan) we decided to actually go inside one of their fine establishments. as we were finalising the details of the date we were inevitably going to cancel on each other, Miss Cleghorn overheard us and suggested "why not take a class", she does them all the time and thinks they are the best workouts you can do in the time... "in fact Belinda wants to do them as well why don't we all go together?"
now i'm not sure about Alan but i think i was blinkered at the thought of a room full of sweaty women dressed in lycra (i'm sure it didn't even cross his mind obviously), and working to my usual totally flawed, yet totally unarguable, logic i thought "lets face it if chicks can do it i'll piss it, even at 30 kilo's overweight" and i'm guessing that as Alan agreed to come he thought the same thing.
even when Vicky told us we were going to a class called Body attack (which should've been a big clue) i just thought they called it that to boost the ladies' esteem and real men like myself and alan would put them all to shame, in the land of blind and all that.
so we turn up, and i've gotta say i wasn't completely wrong, it was full of women in lycra (result)... but that was about all i did have right!
the music started, by the first chorus we'd both realised that we had no sense of rhythm, terrible co-ordination and were slightly less fit than Pavaroti (so can't wait to see the first dance). by the second chorus i'd coughed up a lung due to a pack a day habit since i was fifteen. at the end of the first tune when the instructor shouted "okay warm up over, a quick stretch and then we'll get into it" i think we'd both lost the will to live.
being the men that we thought we were we saw it through to the end, although i expect everyone that we kept bumping into wished we hadn't.
by the end our Grapevine had become balancing on one leg and swinging it from side to side, our star jumps were nothing more than us lifting our arms from by our sides to about three inches short of shoulder height.
at the end as i was searching round for my lung (and self respect) Alan stumbles towards me, with a face redder than kierans on the stag do, looks me in the eye and says, with the utmost conviction, something i hope he will say again with the same conviction at the end of his wedding day (but for completely different reasons)...
NEVER, (huff) EVER, (puff) EVER AGAIN!
funnily enough he gave the same line after getting knocked half unconscious and losing a filling by being thrown off an inflatable ring being dragged at about 40mph by a speedboat.
he's just a pussy if you ask me
Ah yes.....but I am sure he means a nice...erm...pussy...erm...cat...don't you Jez....Jez....Jez?!?!? I'll just get my coat....
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