At some point last week I watched the film Transporter 3. This is not a bad film if you are willing to suspend every last shred of disbelief, and if you have seen the films Transporter 1 and Transporter 2 you pretty much know what you are letting yourself in for. The general story line of Transporter 3 appears to be aimed at giving Jason Statham the opportunity to take of his shirt. This is clearly to give the women-folk something to appreciate whilst us blokes, the target audience for the film, enjoy the fast cars, unlikely fight sequences and the allure of Natalya Rudakova.
At some point during the film, when Mr Statham was once again parading about bare-chested beating off a dozen bad guys armed to the teeth using nothing but his shirt (why don’t they just shoot him? Surely a much more effective approach) my dear wife said something like “how come you don’t look like that when you take your shirt off?”
Obviously I was cut to the quick. Of course I am under no allusion – I know I don’t look like that with my shirt off, but love is supposed to be blind. She is not supposed to have noticed. Obviously the glimmer wears off after this many years.
And so it was maybe with this in the back of my mind that last week I signed up for a Personal Training session at the gym. How hard could it be? Well, I did the session last Thursday morning and re-gained the ability to walk without pain yesterday, that’s how hard it can be! Basically I paid a wodge of cash for someone to torture me within an inch of my life. Afterwards, as I was contemplating whether I could make it down the stairs to the changing room in one piece, I briefly toyed with the idea of reporting him to the police for attempted murder, but wasn’t sure if they’d take me seriously.
For the next few days, every time I moved I could feel every muscle in my body – even muscles that I didn’t know I had and, quite probably, prior to this session, didn’t have. And as I felt my pecs bulging beneath my shirt I thought “ha, eat your heart out Jason Statham, I am now ripped and awesome.”
Imagine my disappointment then when, on the removal of my shirt, I discovered that I still look like one of those large snakes that has just swallowed a goat. It seems that Mr Statham may have spent more than an hour to hone that torso.
And so I will persevere – I have another session of pain lined up for later this week, but fear that I may do nothing more than hold back the excesses from the rest of my lifestyle. After the last session, for instance, on Saturday I hobbled into town to enjoy two meals out – a superb tapas at Sebz in Gloucester for lunch followed by brilliant Caribbean food at Marinades in Cheltenham. Jason Stathma probably doesn’t do that.
On an unrelated and less painful note (less painful to the body anyway – the bank balance has taken a bit of a beating) I have just taken delivery of a new home cinema system. Despite comments in my previous blog, I have succumbed to quite a good system. It is currently sitting downstairs in boxes awaiting assembly. So why, you may ask, am I not busy assembling? That is, after all, why I have the day off today. Well, partly this is due to my previously mentioned tendency to procrastinate, partly an act of delaying gratification, but mostly due to the fear that it looks like I may need an electronics degree to put it all together.
Oh well, time to give it a go. My TV and stereo may never work again…