Sunday, 21 June 2009

Sunday 21 June 09

Ohmygod so I like totally wake up and this is Sunday and ping! I don't know what's been happening over the last few days.
It's been a little erratic.
What was that all about? Nobody can say.

I am on the way to gym when the cracks in my heart appear and my breath shortens. Ohmygod.

It's there in the Audi garage....

The most revolting, brash, garish, bling, over the top, gaudy and flashy piece of equipment I have ever seen in my whole life. I want it so badly it physically hurts.

I have to go and touch it. I have to be near it.

This is a 4.2 litre V8 that kicks out more than 414bhp. It is thug. It is breathtaking.

This is the car we are going to cruise around in, listening to "Mo Money Mo Problems" by Notorious B.I.G. from his legendary 1997 album Life After Death.

This place is called the gym and this is where I am going to be for the next two hours and eleven minutes.

We will do swimming, some biceps and then Abs Attack! A class so fierce and so important that they had to give it an exclamation mark. Attack! Pow!

The following conversation happens in the swimming pool - you decide who's party "A" and who's party "B"...

Party "A": Um, I think you'll see that the sign says it's a swimming lane it's not a paddling lane so if you can't..."
Party "A" then turns around and carries on with his lengths and the speed he was doing them. Fuck knows what Party "B" might have said.
Who cares.

We are in the weights area so-called because there are weights in this area. is with us in this area.

Yesterday we were getting tired of, today we like him. (Completely unrelated: his T-shirt is a lot tighter today than it was yesterday)

It is at this moment that I become privy to some earth-shattering information. Like the moment those haggered old scientists realised that the cloth they were holding was the Turin shroud. tells me that there's a competition running between some members and a few personal trainers. tells me that I have been someone who has been identified as a participant and that it has become incumbent on him to tell me this.

I am told what the competition entails and how the winner will be judged. Once you have been tapped in there is not getting out.

Then asks me to hold out my hand. He takes my wrist with one hand and with the other pulls a small dagger from the top of his trousers. In a flash he has whipped his blade to make a tiny slice on the top of my hand, two drops of blood seep out.
He then leans in, closes his eyes and kisses them.
Lowering his voice he whispers. "cu รจ surdu, orbu e taci, campa cent'anni 'mpaci".

It's time for Ab Attack! And here in the Ab Attack! Class is me and Eugene and a whole bunch of other gays and some girls and two straight guys (they're the ones in the vests with hairy backs).

I don't think you've met Eugene before. He's 32, is pretty good looking but for the last 14 years has been in a long-term relationship with Tom. They broke up which is proving particularly difficult because Tom also comes to the same gym.

In fact there is Tom at the other end of the Ab Attack! Class.
Fun times.

I am with Jonathan. He tells me about the group sex party he went to last night in Stoke Newington. He volunteered the information and I don't suggest we change the subject.

So what happens is you arrive and then take your clothes off and there are some people wandering around without clothes on.

And the kitchen is where you're not supposed to have sex.
And everyone has sex everywhere, in the bedroom and the lounge and the bath.

Jonathan says he was there for "a long time". Apparently it takes a lot of T to keep up.
T is Tina, everyone knows that. (Oh really?)

But if you can't keep it up, most guys wear a cockring.

And for much for the time you talk in the kitchen then sometimes wander off and have sex or join in with other people having sex.

I don't understand and ask Jonathan, I mean after a few goes surely things get a little tender around the trap door area?

"Oh no, you're so fucked and relaxed that after a while you could park a bus there. The sore bit is mostly your front end because you spend twelve hours playing with yourself and not realising.
It gets red raw."

And most of the guys are middle 30s and all shapes and sizes and there was a black guy with an enormous cock and I think we've heard quite enough of Jonathan's sex party.

I am on the phone to my mother.

My housemate is watching Shirley Valentine and I can't believe that I find myself welling up. It's the part where Shirley's in love, on holiday and can't make her mind up what to do and she says "why do we get all this life if we don't use it properly."

I make a mental note to live my life my fully. I'll do that tomorrow maybe.

And so the sun starts to set on the longest day of the year and from now on, we're on a collision course with winter that cannot be altered.
Soon the days will be short and frost will coverthe pavement. 2009 is now basically over. Winter's on its way.

No wait, there's still so much to look forward to.

But the sadness and realisation that the year is being lowered into the ground can't be avoided. Tori is sitting at her piano playing and singing to me...

"With the lights out it's less dangerous. Here we are now entertain us. I feel stupid and contagious. Here we are now entertain us."

I'm walking behind this knob-end who's taking up most of the pavement and I can think of a number of words, other than phat.


Move Out Of The Way And Stop Swaggering You Tosser

And even though you don't know him, I bet you could think of a few too...

I am going to go to bed. To dream about stuff.

Particularly stuff like and I sharing an erotic ritual of silence because in my dreams is about the only place that's likely to happen.

The competition may give me nightmares though. Real ones.


Monty said...

I'm dying to find out what the competition entails... ;-)

Bobby Cox said...

Monty: I would be dying if I were to tell you.
It's an omerta.
(of course i'll blurt it all out at some point)

MadeInScotland said...


Your most amusing blog postings have kept me chuckling (inside-I don't show it). Well, smiling. At least (aw, shucks you're still one of my favourites).

This post has just reminded me to ask a question, if I may. Though it is rather personal.

Your quest-hot body=plenty hot sex; not just in dreams. How's that working out?


In your own good time, of course!!!


Anonymous said...

Will.I.Am or the Audi ?

Jake said...

I think the sex party sounds interesting but could never do it myself.

After all, whenever you see photos of these sorts of things, the guys are never that nice. If it was a pornstar sex party, well....