Barely legal

At the gym, you see some horrid things. Today's delight was a bloke wearing THIS type of thing:

You can't see it from this picture, but his ever-so short shorts had vents in the sides so you could see hip and everything. Worse still, he was the hairiest beast on the fucking planet: there was thick, black hair crawling over the top of his vest (yes vest) and down the tops of his arms. I almost fell off the treadmill in disgust. Cover yourself up, you perve.

Why do people wear outfits like that? You look stupid enough when you're using the machines of torture without wearing a costume that draws even more attention to you.

Shouldn't be allowed.


Leave it in the locker
You don't realise how much your clothes absorb cooking smells until they given the chance to fester in a confined space for an hour. Got back to my locker at the gym this afternoon and could have been mistaken for thinking that somebody was cooking a beef casserole in there. Silly me, it was my stinking manky top that had been oozing the aroma of last night's tea.

Did I mention that I'd been the gym today?


Conical conundrums
Any ideas as to what this might belong to?

Let's just say, I'm really very surprised to have been able to take this photo - this may or may not be a clue. Why the fuck would anybody be interested anyway, for fuck's sake.

Fucking bastard cat

Moose Mousesniffer, sister of Max Mousesniffer had me having kittens this afternoon. She'd gone out for toilet this morning and, despite bad weather, nobody had seen sight nor sound of the little beastie since. Now, even though you generally get the most out of fireworks after dark, thicko bastard tosspots like to set them off right through the day too. It's great to feel like you're reliving the air raids day and night for two months of the year. Anyway, shortly after little Moose left for her comfort wander, the loudest fireworks imaginable started going off. Wankers. Worried for her nerves and safety, I tried to call her in, but there was no sign.

When she still hadn't reappeared later on this afternoon, I had visions of her having a supersized rocket strapped to her and her being launched skywards, a ball of singed fur and flame. So I braved the elements as darkness began to fall; walking a circuit of the avenue and back alleys, round the nearby waste ground where a gang of hooded youths were gathered. I put my own hood up and scowled.

Calling her name, looking a complete dick and getting ever wetter, I walked the streets for half an hour and then returned home, Mooseless and sick to the stomach with worry. As I approached the door, I was met by a forlorn wailing and its perpetrator: Maisie Moo Mousesniffer. Little bitch was as dry as a bone; she'd been hiding under my sister's car all the bloody time.

Fucker.

However, she's safe and that's the main thing. But I'm not sure she ever got her poo because she's making some really loud "I need to go toilet" noises.