I was all set to make the hat trick of swimming visits this week. I finished work at five and headed for Kentish Town, eating a banana on the way (it’s how they got energy before the telly was invented) I arrived, I wondered whether they’d started to recognise me and my burgeoning physique.
It was raining, raining very heavily indeed. My trainers are currently held together with gaffer tape. I was worried if they’d hold. I didn’t worry for long, they didn’t. Technically by the time I’d gotten to the pool my feet had been swimming for ten minutes.
I took out my crisp note of ten english pounds and asked for one Adult swim. Only to be informed that there is no public swimming at the pool after five on a Friday.
It seems that London is in the grip of a nazi regime; yesterday Cricklewood, today Kentish Town, tomorrow the world.
Why can’t people get fit on a Friday, are we all out supposedly having lives and drinking and going to comedy clubs and things? I think not. I wasn’t the only Londoner with a banana surely?
Of course not, I’m sure that it’s a government plot to keep us fat and stupid.
This was proved to me by sitting down in front of the best that Friday night TV has to offer…
Top Of The Pops new format hosted by a foetus.
All the songs sounded the same. I think I’m getting old.
And fat…