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What followed was dreadful in the best possible way – great fun, a good mix of exercises and excellent leadership – but you need to understand it’s hard to concentrate when you’re certain you’re about to shit out your own heart through over-exertion.I have genuinely never moved so much in my life: you could set me on fire and I’d still keep a slower pace than I did that night.At least I think that’s what they say, my ears are usually muffled by thighs at that point.I had visions of walking in and everyone collectively gasping until someone rushed over and threw a blanket over us like one might do with a screeching budgie.Paul trembled at the thought of exercise, I sobbed at the thought of having to put my gym trainers back on.We bit the bullet though and it was with a heavy heart and far heavier tits that we pulled into the car-park on an industrial estate at 9pm, something we never usually do unless we’ve pre-arranged a meeting with a lorry driver whose ‘wife just doesn’t understand him’ and ‘anyway it’s not gay if I don’t touch yours’.'I plan to take photos with her as long as she will let me,' Sholom said.
We’ve handed over a not insignificant amount of money and committed to six weeks of hell, all in the name of having slightly less fat on our arse when we roll into summer.
But after realising his daughter was happy to sit for the camera, he began incorporating her into his pictures.
He said: 'She definitely makes all the pictures a lot cuter as without her I'm just a fat chubby guy who likes to take silly pictures.
In fact, we were treated marvellously – we chuckled our way through the disclaimer (swollen ankles?
I don’t know, they’re usually behind my ears out of sight, ho ho) and had our photos taken, front and profile like a mug-shot.