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Keep Fit
by Rebecca Burke

Xmas is over, memberships to gyms rise.
Folks seeking penance for gorging on turkey and mince pies.
Trudging on the treadmill feels like you've been on it so long.
But the display smirks only 30 calories burned, the damn thing must be wrong!

The Flora Marathon runner alongside you it's a pretty safe bet.
That this bitch has burned 2000 calories without working up a sweat!
Grunting men lift weights bulging biceps and egos to match.
No time for romance, too busy flexing and posing yet they think they're a catch.

Exercise classes called Spinning, or rather cycling on E's we utter.
Women with no nether regions pedalling like obsessed nutters.
Step aerobics stepping on and off boxes like a real prat.
Lugging a dyson up your stairs at home would burn off more fat.

Blusher over-applied on these women to the point of insanity.
Preening in lycra the only exercise on display here is in vanity.
Pilates (no one knows what it is), Yoga - stretching for an hour.
Why not stretch your limbs in the bathroom by cleaning your shower?

Squash playing executives angrily thrashing out their stressful lives
Display testosterone fuelled manliness til going home and getting nagged by wives.
In the swimming pool brats urinating while lifeguards gossip or stare into space.
Parents sat watching with vile watery tea and bored expressions on their face.

Walking into the pool, paranoid all your blubbers on show.
Old ladies with flowery, Victorian swim caps, you change lanes they're too slow.
Fast lane swimmers furiously overtake you in their beady goggles and phallic headgear.
Mistaking this for their own private training pool as if you've no right to be here.

Erratic showers and out of use hairdryers the changing rooms really are the pits.
Vending machine snacks prices equivalent to a meal at the Ritz.
Ringing to cancel your membership they get in such a lather.
The friendly bimbo who once signed you has become the Godfather.

Some choose outdoor exercise, joggers out all weather lycra bulging.
While we drive guiltily past thinking of all the cream cakes we will be indulging.
Horseriders trot past glaring demonically if you dare drive higher than 2nd gear.
Forcing you to bow down and crawl behind them gazing up their equestrian rear.

Cyclists in the middle of the road thinking they're cars, move to the left you git!
Signalling last minute and flinging their arm out your wingmirror almost hit.
The Swiss Family Robinson take up the whole road out for their Sunday treat.
Yet their kids would rather be home playing their Nintendo and getting high on sweets.

Cleaning my house is enough bloody exercise for me.
I'd prefer to sit in the comfort of my armchair with nice cup of tea!