Welcome back my little stalkers! That's all you are essentially. You follow me, finding out little facts about my life and just hoping to get some incriminating gossip to sell to the papers. I'm not falling for that again, not after my phone got hacked! Mind you this blog has got to 8 new countries since my last post so it's not like I need the publicity anyway. ONTO BLOG HEAVEN....
Right so I've moved out of Bournemouth. Spent a couple of days doing some hardcore cleaning. Some of you are unaware of how cleaning works so let me explain it in a mathematical equation. 1 House minus dirt which was added and is now multiplying bacteria equals xy (clean house) and the division of labour between the factors involed means 1 is subtracting the root of weeds and the other is ensuring there is no pi stains on the carpet and that the house is in the standing up position...or the RIGHT angle. Simple really. My enchantment of a Mother came to help... I say help, I mean more like save us. We packed all my stuff in the car; tv, clothes, map of middle earth, girlfriend and my collection of Norwegian egg cups. Unfortunately I couldnt fit in the car though, and my Mum still doesn't think I'm old enough to ride in the glovebox so I had to catch the coach to London. Couldn't be bothered waiting for a connecting bus back to my house, so I ordered a strategic human transportation device...or taxi as the Scotsmen call them.
There are too many fat people annoying me. Fat people annoy me in general simply because their bellow lungs consume twice as much oxygen as mine but they don't pay any extra. I'm not talking about people who are just a little larger than others, I'm talking about the Jupiters of the human solar system. Lately they've really been bugging me. Some annoy me on the escalators at the tube stations. They say stand on the right to let people walking up the steps pass on the left, this doesnt apply to the flub brigade though as they not only take up the whole width of the walkway but also droop over 3 steps so no matter where I stand, their chub is still in mace face. Then it's rush hour and their bloated wisdom takes up half the bloody carriage on the train. Pointless having a section for elderly and disabled people to sit when Shamoo has declared his own section. Thusforth I have devised a step by step guide to help our lard enriched brothers live a healthy life without fear of being harpooned...
Buy a hammock, all podgy peeps like a hammock. But replace the netting with cheese wire so that chunks of flub with just fall through it. Kind of like an industrial sieve.
Confiscate all mobile phones from the butter bellies and replace them with morse code transmitters. They may be ordering pizza but the constant tapping will cause them to lose weight in their index fingers in days.
Remove all calendars from their houses. If Chub Norris hasn't got his eye set on Christmas Dinner, he might decide to stop practising for it.
Try my new invention. It's a mirror which enhances Fatorexia™. A gibbly gump who looks into the mirror will see a skinny good looking version of themselves. This causes them to go into Fatolemia™ where they purge all their gastric gunk out to leave them with the body of a Greek god.
So there you go, my comprehensive, handy dandy guide to weight loss. I hope people dont start stealing gates or taking offence (little joke there). It's not mean, it's true, and if you don't like it, then go back to looking up techniques on how to free your belly from being trapped under the table you're sat at.
So there you go buddys. So mildly insulting trivia for you to feast on, but not too much now or you'll need to take that step by step guide yourself. Catch you soon chickadees
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