Journey through space to the Planet Fabulous, where the Ruler of the Universe will see you shortly.

Friday, August 15, 2003

Let’s Get Physical

I do try my best to keep this car wreck of a body in the best shape I can, you know - despite what you see before you. For a long time I took a leaf out of Damien Hurst’s book and tried pickling it, but found that vodka is arguably cheaper than formaldehyde. Still a quest for bodily perfection has taken me to some of the oddest places.


Gertie and I do attend a very glamorous gym at the BBC - a perk he arranged for me getting drunk in his living room while purportedly ‘working’ on a BBC project with him - but tend to do it with such gossipy joy that we may as well be leaning up a fence and looking at boy’s bottoms rather than ‘benching twenty’ (whatever that means). In fact, we were told off by a rather over-tanned gym instructor the other day. She said that we weren’t using the equipment properly and were disruptive. This was fair enough: we’d just discovered if you bash the 7.5kg weights together when hefting them above your head, they go ‘ting!’ like Madonna finger-cymbals. While she tried to tell us off, yet remain chummy and apparently reasonable, Gertie made indifferent noises and looked to me for back up. I was lost in her almost radioactive hue of her skin, wondering if she had to have a florescent fifth colour printed on her photos at Boots. How very expensive.

Anyway, we carried on regardless, and I apparently voiced my “Well, she was very orange...” a little too loud as she moved to terrorise some other people. And the moniker ‘Lady Marmalade’ seems to be sticking to her, even amongst the other instructors. Why yes, we feel it’s our job to bring a little joy into fellow gym-goers lives and shall be performing our necessaries in fabulous tu-tus and doing Fame dance routines in front of the big mirror down by the free weights. The next stop after that – large afro wigs.


I’m not very good at weightloss, for if there’s a quick fix solution to anything, I’ll take it. I did try the Atkins Diet, yet after a week of no carbs my brain fell out and I had to be lead to Burger King in a daze. My yardstick is if I can’t name all of Girls Aloud, give me battenburg.

I’m now doing one of my own concoction: The Comedy Food Diet. There’s no weightloss - it's just fun. Within this food regime, you are allowed to eat:

Large, flowery baps
A large battered sausage
A nice pear
Meat and two veg
Cream horns
Stuffed melons

Bananas are only allowed if accompanied by a swanny whistle. Blancmange is only allowed if there are pink, two of them, each with a cherry on top, and served upon a bed of Zanussi on spin cycle.


Someone tried to get me to go to a Steps Class the other day.

I said I knew all about them, can do a more than decent dance sequence to Tragedy, and yes, you’d do H but you’d be thinking of Lee.

No comments: