1) Being worked into a sweaty, breathless pulp by a machine that neither recognises or responds to sarcasm or insults, always ends the same way - me, skulking away from the treadmill, with my head hung low in a Bill Bixby homage, as the Incredible Hulk's 'Lonely Man' plays proudly over the tannoy,
2) My local gym is where those who lost their homes during last summers riots had to reside for a period of time. A gym that is usually busy with badminton enthusiasts, played home to distraught families, while the nation listened to the pedantic and trifling response of many a politician.
- I write in order to avoid talking, for you see as a human, I suck at talking.
Location:Post workout.
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