Dark Chickens attempts to be carbon neutral
With my personal drive and determination to become an eco god, I recently purchased a retro (or is it vintage) wind up clock from a local second hand shop. It's selling feature was an alarm, which I thought would prove very useful given my personal desire to work the early shift. At the time I was shocked at how such a stylish and desirable piece could have possibly ended up on a charity shop shelf and couldn't believe my luck in finding such an unusual purchase for the cheap price of a fiver.
When I got home that evening I wound the clock up and set it free on it personal clockwork adventure, setting the alarm for six o'clock in the morning. I left my bedroom and returned at night fall dressed in my PJ's and nightcap. With teddy safely tucked in I settled down for what I thought would be a good nights sleep.
Half an hour went by and I was still wide eyed listening to the constant and somewhat hyperactive tick-tock of this wind up clock. After another half an hour I decide action was needed and covered the clock with a spare pillow. The disturbance continued and the clock was soon covered by an additional pillow, but still the ticking kept me awake.
It dawned on me then that perhaps the alarm really wasn't such a required feature as to sleep with this noisy ticking and tocking device was near impossible. Not only was it loud, but the tempo of the tempo was impossible to unwind to.
It was now 2 o'clock in the morning and drastic action was required, but from the comfort of my bed the only drastic action available was to shove the clock in one of the bedside cabinets. It soon became apparent that this was only resonating the sound and after a further half an hour the only action I could possibly take was to get out of bed and put the clock in the spare bedroom, making sure to shut all of the doors behind me.
Before settling down again, I set the alarm on my mobile to 6:30 and was soon fast asleep in the now tranquil environment. I thought nothing could disturb me as I lay there enjoying the pleasures of rest, the odd dream and some random leg movements.
Then, BRINGGGGGGG!, it was the alarm clock going off in the spare room. In my daze I immediately thought it was the fire alarm. My heart was pounding. I grabbed my personal belongings and the dog before realising it was that bl00dy alarm clock. To say it was loud was an understatement, if it was a human it would have come with an ASBO for anti-social behaviour. If it was car then it'd be a 1960 diesel lorry with honk horn blaring out.
The following day I cut my losses and gave that alarm clock back to the charity shop... it was then that I realised why this alarm clock was on that charity shelf.
DC.
The Grey Cardigan comment:
"I can relate to this, I once bought a South Park wind up clock and that ticking is the most annoying thing ever. Ended up stuck in a drawer under a load of clothes until it wound down."
Tuesday, 12 June 2007
Thursday, 24 May 2007
Government In Action
Or should that be Government Inaction?
Only time will tell.
NorbertD has discovered the UK governments petition website. No 10 have responded to his request as follows:
From: 10 Downing Street [mailto:team@petitions.pm.gov.uk]
Sent: 21 May 2007 15:02
To: NorbertD
Subject: Confirm your new petition to the Prime Minister - 'Demand that The Grey Cardigan of Strood gets his hair cut by Aunt Pat'
Please click on the link below to confirm that you wish the Number 10 website to display the petition at the bottom of this email in your name.
http://petitions.pm.gov.uk/Haircut
Your petition reads:
We the undersigned petition the Prime Minister to Demand that The Grey Cardigan of Strood gets his hair cut by Aunt Pat
The Grey Cardigan of Strood is refusing to get his hair cut. It has now been some 18 months since his last visit to Aunt Pat. His friends and colleagues demand that TGC makes the call to his Aunt and books himself an appointment, as his hair is now the second longest in the office behind a lady. We do not expect the Prime Minister to exert pressure on TGC to go for a number one all over, but something neat and tidy with a little left over his collar and ears would be ideal. Please sign and help us to help The Grey Cardigan.
Thank you for submitting your petition.
[ This email has been automatically sent by the Number 10 petitions system ]
Only time will tell.
NorbertD has discovered the UK governments petition website. No 10 have responded to his request as follows:
From: 10 Downing Street [mailto:team@petitions.pm.gov.uk]
Sent: 21 May 2007 15:02
To: NorbertD
Subject: Confirm your new petition to the Prime Minister - 'Demand that The Grey Cardigan of Strood gets his hair cut by Aunt Pat'
Please click on the link below to confirm that you wish the Number 10 website to display the petition at the bottom of this email in your name.
http://petitions.pm.gov.uk/Haircut
Your petition reads:
We the undersigned petition the Prime Minister to Demand that The Grey Cardigan of Strood gets his hair cut by Aunt Pat
The Grey Cardigan of Strood is refusing to get his hair cut. It has now been some 18 months since his last visit to Aunt Pat. His friends and colleagues demand that TGC makes the call to his Aunt and books himself an appointment, as his hair is now the second longest in the office behind a lady. We do not expect the Prime Minister to exert pressure on TGC to go for a number one all over, but something neat and tidy with a little left over his collar and ears would be ideal. Please sign and help us to help The Grey Cardigan.
Thank you for submitting your petition.
[ This email has been automatically sent by the Number 10 petitions system ]
Wednesday, 23 May 2007
Marriott Memoirs - Chapter 2
A night out of the hotel
At the local dry ski slope, there is a freestyle ski club. For those of you who are unaware of the activities that freestyle skiers perform, I'll list a few.
The freestyle club has a few well known faces on the UK skiing scene. The England freestyle coach and UK champion amongst them.
With this standard of tuition available, it would have been churlish to refuse the offer of having a go.
Sitting with the coach watching the regulars and hearing his analysis and instructions, it all seems very straightforward. You need speed. You need to have your weight forward as you hit the transition, push off the vert as you lose speed, and simply turn in the air. The main problem that most people have is not having enough speed. They bottle out at the last minute, brake with a snowplough and don't get past the curved transition section, making it very difficult to turn.
It was my turn. I went up the lift to the top of the slope and waited in line. Most people were being given the now familiar instruction to speed up. I wouldn't need that. The skis I was wearing were slalom skis designed for speed, unlike everyone elses twin tips designed for freestyle tricks.
As I set off, the video camera was recording my run. A straight line. No last minute braking. Skiing right up the transition onto the vert. Leaving the top.
It's at this point that you need to turn if you don't want to fall to the ground. I did turn, but not enough. Landing on my left shoulder I hit the ground and the coach was there instantly to pick me up, the video camera thown aside in panic.
Bruised, but otherwise unscathed, I got up, massaged my shoulder and wondered what had gone wrong. Playing back the video in slow motion showed a skier accelerating fast and hitting a wall. The fall had not been captured as everyone had leapt to their feet and run towards me.
"Do you want another go? "
I heard myself saying "Yes"
Descending from the same height on the slope, but slowing down slightly before hitting the transition, I took off into the air as before. This time was more successfull, getting the same extreme height as before and getting one ski round the turn before landing on my head. Did I say more successfull? I meant from a video footage point of view. This time it was all on film.
Dazed and confused, I nonetheless understood the instruction "No more for you tonight". It was only then that I noticed the trampoline club logos some of the regulars were wearing. Maybe they already knew how to turn in the air.
Back at the hotel, the bed didn't seem quite as comfortable as before. Knee and elbow grazed, thumb unable to grip, shoulder aching and a headache.
It's good to get out to get some exercise once in a while.
At the local dry ski slope, there is a freestyle ski club. For those of you who are unaware of the activities that freestyle skiers perform, I'll list a few.
- Ramps - Of variable height (0.5 - 1 metre). Skiers go as fast as possible, ski up the ramp and take off into the air, with skill it is possible to land without falling over. Some people can spin in the air before landing.
- Rails - A small ramp leads onto a gas pipe. The skier or boarder has to turn 90 degrees, land on the pipe and travel sideways balancing on the pipe.
- Moguls - A series of bumps of varying height and width through which the skier must travel without being thrown over.
- The coffin - Two parallel rails forming a box. Snowboarders seem to like this one.
- Quarter pipe - At the bottom of the slope, a 2 metre high ramp which curves at the bottom and ends with a vertical section. Skiers will go as fast as possible, hitting the curved section (called the transition) and ski upwards to the vertical section (the vert), then just before falling backwards will spin around 180 degrees and ski back down the vert and transition.
The freestyle club has a few well known faces on the UK skiing scene. The England freestyle coach and UK champion amongst them.
With this standard of tuition available, it would have been churlish to refuse the offer of having a go.
Sitting with the coach watching the regulars and hearing his analysis and instructions, it all seems very straightforward. You need speed. You need to have your weight forward as you hit the transition, push off the vert as you lose speed, and simply turn in the air. The main problem that most people have is not having enough speed. They bottle out at the last minute, brake with a snowplough and don't get past the curved transition section, making it very difficult to turn.
It was my turn. I went up the lift to the top of the slope and waited in line. Most people were being given the now familiar instruction to speed up. I wouldn't need that. The skis I was wearing were slalom skis designed for speed, unlike everyone elses twin tips designed for freestyle tricks.
As I set off, the video camera was recording my run. A straight line. No last minute braking. Skiing right up the transition onto the vert. Leaving the top.
It's at this point that you need to turn if you don't want to fall to the ground. I did turn, but not enough. Landing on my left shoulder I hit the ground and the coach was there instantly to pick me up, the video camera thown aside in panic.
Bruised, but otherwise unscathed, I got up, massaged my shoulder and wondered what had gone wrong. Playing back the video in slow motion showed a skier accelerating fast and hitting a wall. The fall had not been captured as everyone had leapt to their feet and run towards me.
"Do you want another go? "
I heard myself saying "Yes"
Descending from the same height on the slope, but slowing down slightly before hitting the transition, I took off into the air as before. This time was more successfull, getting the same extreme height as before and getting one ski round the turn before landing on my head. Did I say more successfull? I meant from a video footage point of view. This time it was all on film.
Dazed and confused, I nonetheless understood the instruction "No more for you tonight". It was only then that I noticed the trampoline club logos some of the regulars were wearing. Maybe they already knew how to turn in the air.
Back at the hotel, the bed didn't seem quite as comfortable as before. Knee and elbow grazed, thumb unable to grip, shoulder aching and a headache.
It's good to get out to get some exercise once in a while.
Monday, 14 May 2007
Gone Wig-about
Aboriginal Tradition
Not wholly unlike the indiginous people of Australia, Dark Chickens sometimes disappears and it's a cause for concern until he returns with a pocket full of wig photos depicting his latest trip.
A few months ago it happened again so we decided to run a competition.
The email went out to the Wigsters
Subject: Where is Chickens?
Answers on a postcard to:-
Where is Chickens Competition
I have No Idea
PO Box ***
Sandy
Beds
It's tricky to judge a competition when you don't know the answer, so we emailed Dark.
Dark, wherever you are,
Please send us a postcard.
We forgive you, it doesn't have to be this way.
A few days later a postcard arrived. It said...
I'm in trouble, I've been locked in a secret chicken barn somewhere in Shropshire by the infamous Dr Howsyapappa. Thankfully it looks like I have enough material in the barn to build an industrial cake mixing machine. Sure, this sounds foolish but with the egg white and the whisk, I'm hoping to fill this barn with a stiff peaky texture... this may in turn offer too much pressure on the doors.
Our trivial competion was clearly in poor taste so the team was mobilised.
Team,
We have a job to do.
This weekend we will meet in Shropshire and search chicken barns until we find Dr Howsyapappa's lair.
Your primary roles are as follows:
Brigadier - Google searches
NorbertD - Long range surveillance
CommanderChristie - Master of disguise (I suggest you bring a moustache)
Lambpie - Tools supplier
Goat - Stiff peaky texture specialist
I'm looking forward to releasing Dark and making use of the remaining egg yolks, perhaps by cooking a few pancakes. Please bring your own recipes and additional ingredients as required.
Sadly, on Friday (after a frying pan had been bought), this message had to be sent...
Team,
A postcard arrived this morning describing a daring escape.
Pancakes are off. Sorry.
Not wholly unlike the indiginous people of Australia, Dark Chickens sometimes disappears and it's a cause for concern until he returns with a pocket full of wig photos depicting his latest trip.
A few months ago it happened again so we decided to run a competition.
The email went out to the Wigsters
Subject: Where is Chickens?
Answers on a postcard to:-
Where is Chickens Competition
I have No Idea
PO Box ***
Sandy
Beds
It's tricky to judge a competition when you don't know the answer, so we emailed Dark.
Dark, wherever you are,
Please send us a postcard.
We forgive you, it doesn't have to be this way.
A few days later a postcard arrived. It said...
I'm in trouble, I've been locked in a secret chicken barn somewhere in Shropshire by the infamous Dr Howsyapappa. Thankfully it looks like I have enough material in the barn to build an industrial cake mixing machine. Sure, this sounds foolish but with the egg white and the whisk, I'm hoping to fill this barn with a stiff peaky texture... this may in turn offer too much pressure on the doors.
Our trivial competion was clearly in poor taste so the team was mobilised.
Team,
We have a job to do.
This weekend we will meet in Shropshire and search chicken barns until we find Dr Howsyapappa's lair.
Your primary roles are as follows:
Brigadier - Google searches
NorbertD - Long range surveillance
CommanderChristie - Master of disguise (I suggest you bring a moustache)
Lambpie - Tools supplier
Goat - Stiff peaky texture specialist
I'm looking forward to releasing Dark and making use of the remaining egg yolks, perhaps by cooking a few pancakes. Please bring your own recipes and additional ingredients as required.
Sadly, on Friday (after a frying pan had been bought), this message had to be sent...
Team,
A postcard arrived this morning describing a daring escape.
Pancakes are off. Sorry.
A True Story
TV Star Story (and this time it's true)
Dark Chickens diary
25/05/2006
"On my way back from working in London today I bumped in to Paul O'Grady (of Lily Savage fame) whilst he was walking his dog buster. Anyway, one thing led to the next and I ended up asking Paul if buster would like to do a wiggy and before I knew it the wig was out and in Paul's hand. But alas the first celebrity wig was not to be as buster was not playing ball. To add insult to injury Paul then declined with "I'm not getting into that". Never one to take no for an answer I have emailed him one of BigBoyBertie latest wiggy and reminded him again of the wiggy website address."
Paul O'Grady and BusterWe are still waiting. Paul/Lily are you reading this?
Thursday, 10 May 2007
TV Star
Our very own Dark Chickens has become a star.
In case you missed it last week,there were two shows desperate to do an interview.
Parkinson
Parkinson: "Hello and welcome to Parkinson. My guests tonight include international playboy, eligible bachelor and sport car collector - The Gray Cardigan. "
[clapping and wolf whistles]
Parkinson: "NorbertD the international film star will join us to talk about his exotic life and his new film 'Undercover on the nudist beach' "
[clapping]
Parkinson: "But our first guest tonight is none other than a sporting legend, not content with leading England to success in the lefthanded ping pong world championship he then went on to spearhead the efforts in saving one of the most endangers species, the dirty white rhino. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Lambpie".
[applause as Lambpie enters stage, wearing a beige suit and panama hat. Lambpie walks up to Parkinson, exchanges pleasantries and takes a seat.]
Parkinson: "I got a warm sense whilst reading your autobiography "Born to lefthanded ping pong", the part in which you describe the encouragement your father gave you to achieve your dreams was particularly touching. He must have been a remarkable man..."
Lambpie: Silence
Parkinson: "My next guest started life as a single cell, then briefly flirted with childhood and finally grew up to be an adult. He has ginger hair, a voice like caramel and an ass so lily white that Dulux have added it to their colour range. But he needs no introduction from me - ladies and gentlemen he's our own Neil Sedaka......it's international singing sensation Dark Chickens......... "
[Parky rises from his swivel chair with the aid of an unseen hand pushing his backside up. He flashes a pair of white dentures at the camera, grins cheesily and gestures stage right in expectation of Chickens walking on.
There is loud applause and a section of the audience containing Motherwell Womens Institute members whoop in anticipation of seeing their hero.
Meanwhile Chickens cheekily comes on stage from the right and pinches Parky's butt from behind. Parky flies up into the air and slips a disc.
Pandemonium breaks out as security guards rush on stage to try and pin down Chickens. Chickens is rugby tackled by one of the guards, ex con Gary McCustard but escapes his clutches and head towards a fire exit where he is cut off by more security guards.
In moments, police arrive and a gun shot is heard. Chickens drops to the floor having tried to scale some scaffold.
Parky then remarkably gets up, brushes himself off and puts his hand over his mouth to stifle hysterics whilst pointing at Chickens. Chickens also gets up, looks over at Parky, grins and winks at the audience.
The whole thing was a set up and was designed to boost Parky's flagging ratings as a result of the show clashing with Match of the Day. The two men embrace like long lost brothers and the audience whoop with enthusiasm. One member of the Motherwell WI is so overcome with emotion that she dies.
Lambpie, who is still sitting on stage in the middle chair, hammily grins like a toothless moron at camera 2 and shakes his head in disbelief. The truth was he was in on the gag all the time.
In years to come this piece of TV history will reach number 73 in 'a hundred classic TV fit ups' ].
Parkinson: [holding back the tears of laughter - he leans forward and opens his mouth to talk and then collapses in hysterics again. Lambpie shakes his head and rolls his eyeballs like a drug crazed psycho]
"Oh dear! Oh deary me!"
[he collapses again and slaps Chickens on the thigh. Chickens retaliates with shadow boxing. He swings round to hit Lambpie whose well rehearsed duck and accompanying look of horror are straight from the amateur dramatics society school of overacting]
Dark Chickens ladies and gentlemen! What a guy! Are you going to sing us a song?
Chickens: [shaking his head and looking coy] I'm not really in the mood tonight Michael....
Parkinson: [Invisible hand propels him out of his chair once more as he goes to milk the audience...]
"You want him to sing Ladies and Gentlemen?"
Audience : Yessssssssssssssssssssss
Chickens: [grinning like a smug fool] "I'm not sure"
Parkinson: "He's got to hasn't he folks!"
Audience: Yeeeeeeessssssssssssssssssssss
Chickens: "Well, I guess just one song wouldn't hurt...."
Audience: Hoooorrraaaayyyyy
[The lights dim and Chickens leaves his chair and heads for solo microphone stage left. The sound of the pan pipes accompanied by slap bass are heard as The James Last Orchestra emerge from an underground orchestra pit. Dry ice is pumped on to the stage so that Chickens completely disappears]
Jonathan Ross
Jonathan Woss: "Good evening and welcome to this weeks show".
[Loads of whooping]
"Alwight alwight, calm down. What's wong with ya tonight? Deaw oh deaw" [shakes head and grimaces as if sucking a lemon]
[whoops, clapping, general hysteria, sounds of a foghorn from back of audience - Woss raises eyebrows and pulls the sucked lemon face again and moves swiftly on]
"My first guest caused pandemonium last week when he appeawed on the Parkinson show. West assured Ladies and Gents that we will be having no such cheap stunts on this show tonight......"
[laughs from the trendy looking mostly gay audience]
"Of course we are far too professional to attempt to pull off such a tacky display"
[The fog horn goes off again and a naked figure with ginger hair resembling Chickens is seen running in through the back of the audience. He runs up to Woss and kisses him - he also embraces the lead singer of house band 'Four Poofs and a Piano' before setting light to his hair. Security hit the scene carrying fire extinguishers. They train them on the man and cover him completely with foam.]
"Ladies and Gents, it's Dark Chickens!"
[Loud guffaws, whoops, clapping and Four Poofs and a Piano hum a terrible version of 'Proud'. The figure covered in foam is dragged away and simultaneously Chickens appears stage right, dressed in a purple crushed velvet suit ala Austin Powers. The audience are wetting themselves.]
Woss: "He's done it again the cheeky pwankster!"
In case you missed it last week,there were two shows desperate to do an interview.
Parkinson
Parkinson: "Hello and welcome to Parkinson. My guests tonight include international playboy, eligible bachelor and sport car collector - The Gray Cardigan. "
[clapping and wolf whistles]
Parkinson: "NorbertD the international film star will join us to talk about his exotic life and his new film 'Undercover on the nudist beach' "
[clapping]
Parkinson: "But our first guest tonight is none other than a sporting legend, not content with leading England to success in the lefthanded ping pong world championship he then went on to spearhead the efforts in saving one of the most endangers species, the dirty white rhino. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Lambpie".
[applause as Lambpie enters stage, wearing a beige suit and panama hat. Lambpie walks up to Parkinson, exchanges pleasantries and takes a seat.]
Parkinson: "I got a warm sense whilst reading your autobiography "Born to lefthanded ping pong", the part in which you describe the encouragement your father gave you to achieve your dreams was particularly touching. He must have been a remarkable man..."
Lambpie: Silence
Parkinson: "My next guest started life as a single cell, then briefly flirted with childhood and finally grew up to be an adult. He has ginger hair, a voice like caramel and an ass so lily white that Dulux have added it to their colour range. But he needs no introduction from me - ladies and gentlemen he's our own Neil Sedaka......it's international singing sensation Dark Chickens......... "
[Parky rises from his swivel chair with the aid of an unseen hand pushing his backside up. He flashes a pair of white dentures at the camera, grins cheesily and gestures stage right in expectation of Chickens walking on.
There is loud applause and a section of the audience containing Motherwell Womens Institute members whoop in anticipation of seeing their hero.
Meanwhile Chickens cheekily comes on stage from the right and pinches Parky's butt from behind. Parky flies up into the air and slips a disc.
Pandemonium breaks out as security guards rush on stage to try and pin down Chickens. Chickens is rugby tackled by one of the guards, ex con Gary McCustard but escapes his clutches and head towards a fire exit where he is cut off by more security guards.
In moments, police arrive and a gun shot is heard. Chickens drops to the floor having tried to scale some scaffold.
Parky then remarkably gets up, brushes himself off and puts his hand over his mouth to stifle hysterics whilst pointing at Chickens. Chickens also gets up, looks over at Parky, grins and winks at the audience.
The whole thing was a set up and was designed to boost Parky's flagging ratings as a result of the show clashing with Match of the Day. The two men embrace like long lost brothers and the audience whoop with enthusiasm. One member of the Motherwell WI is so overcome with emotion that she dies.
Lambpie, who is still sitting on stage in the middle chair, hammily grins like a toothless moron at camera 2 and shakes his head in disbelief. The truth was he was in on the gag all the time.
In years to come this piece of TV history will reach number 73 in 'a hundred classic TV fit ups' ].
Parkinson: [holding back the tears of laughter - he leans forward and opens his mouth to talk and then collapses in hysterics again. Lambpie shakes his head and rolls his eyeballs like a drug crazed psycho]
"Oh dear! Oh deary me!"
[he collapses again and slaps Chickens on the thigh. Chickens retaliates with shadow boxing. He swings round to hit Lambpie whose well rehearsed duck and accompanying look of horror are straight from the amateur dramatics society school of overacting]
Dark Chickens ladies and gentlemen! What a guy! Are you going to sing us a song?
Chickens: [shaking his head and looking coy] I'm not really in the mood tonight Michael....
Parkinson: [Invisible hand propels him out of his chair once more as he goes to milk the audience...]
"You want him to sing Ladies and Gentlemen?"
Audience : Yessssssssssssssssssssss
Chickens: [grinning like a smug fool] "I'm not sure"
Parkinson: "He's got to hasn't he folks!"
Audience: Yeeeeeeessssssssssssssssssssss
Chickens: "Well, I guess just one song wouldn't hurt...."
Audience: Hoooorrraaaayyyyy
[The lights dim and Chickens leaves his chair and heads for solo microphone stage left. The sound of the pan pipes accompanied by slap bass are heard as The James Last Orchestra emerge from an underground orchestra pit. Dry ice is pumped on to the stage so that Chickens completely disappears]
Jonathan Ross
Jonathan Woss: "Good evening and welcome to this weeks show".
[Loads of whooping]
"Alwight alwight, calm down. What's wong with ya tonight? Deaw oh deaw" [shakes head and grimaces as if sucking a lemon]
[whoops, clapping, general hysteria, sounds of a foghorn from back of audience - Woss raises eyebrows and pulls the sucked lemon face again and moves swiftly on]
"My first guest caused pandemonium last week when he appeawed on the Parkinson show. West assured Ladies and Gents that we will be having no such cheap stunts on this show tonight......"
[laughs from the trendy looking mostly gay audience]
"Of course we are far too professional to attempt to pull off such a tacky display"
[The fog horn goes off again and a naked figure with ginger hair resembling Chickens is seen running in through the back of the audience. He runs up to Woss and kisses him - he also embraces the lead singer of house band 'Four Poofs and a Piano' before setting light to his hair. Security hit the scene carrying fire extinguishers. They train them on the man and cover him completely with foam.]
"Ladies and Gents, it's Dark Chickens!"
[Loud guffaws, whoops, clapping and Four Poofs and a Piano hum a terrible version of 'Proud'. The figure covered in foam is dragged away and simultaneously Chickens appears stage right, dressed in a purple crushed velvet suit ala Austin Powers. The audience are wetting themselves.]
Woss: "He's done it again the cheeky pwankster!"
New Diet
It's Guaranteed to work!
In the unlikely event that any of you toned and surprisingly well groomed people ever find you have need for a diet, then we can recommend the following.
It's simple, it's guaranteed to work and it can be summarised in one sentence.
"Eat whatever you like, but do it in front of ten overweight naked people".
Oh, and don't forget to send us a picture of yourself wearing the wig while you do it.
In the unlikely event that any of you toned and surprisingly well groomed people ever find you have need for a diet, then we can recommend the following.
It's simple, it's guaranteed to work and it can be summarised in one sentence.
"Eat whatever you like, but do it in front of ten overweight naked people".
Oh, and don't forget to send us a picture of yourself wearing the wig while you do it.
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