On Wednesday I’m at work and I’m staring at the wall, maybe the ceiling, maybe a print-out (I can’t be sure – after a while everything blends into one, into nothing) and then this guy comes back from lunch and he announces that he just went to a book shop and bought books after a very long time. And I’m thinking, wait, I’ve got to listen to this, even I need a good laugh every now and then.
So some girl who works for him (tall, blonde, genuine pain in her eyes) takes the bait and asks: so what did you get?
And I’m thinking, please don’t say Afflu
And he says: I got Affluenza and I got something called Watching the English.
And at this point I must stress how much I hate Affluenza. Affluenza is a new mock-sociology book that’s currently being advertised all over the tube and it’s written for people who are so bleeding thick that they can’t make their reading choices outside gigantic billboards. It is also another one in the series of appalling pop-psychology/sociology non-fiction must-reads, again for people who are fucking brainless and only read what their colleagues recommend, so that they have some small talk material for the office water fountain. Other books like that include Freakonomics and The Status Anxiety.
And at this point I must stress how much I hate Watching the English. Again, an absurd fad book that delves into everything and teaches you nothing. The reading choice for people who don’t enjoy reading, the literary equivalent of buying a Beatles Greatest Hits.
God, I’m so bitter, I hadn’t realised. No wait, that’s a lie, I had.
Anyway, even though I’m having an amazing time at work evidently, I do have to leave at some point and I choose to go to the gym.
I get to the gym at 1800 and I’m not expecting to see Superman there because it’s too early for him (he usually turns up around 1830-1840), but when I get to the changing room, he’s already there in his gym clothes, ready to train, way ahead of schedule.
And I’ve never doubted that he’s straight but this is further proof: over the next hour he does a speedy workout, like he’s in a mad rush, like he needs to be somewhere at 1945. And none of us gays may know this, but this Wednesday is a huge day for anyone who’s English and straight: the Champions League Final features two English clubs (Man U and Chelsea) for the first time ever. And the game kicks off at 1945. If you’re English and straight and you miss this, you either have some serious brain damage or you’re gay (insert your own jokes connecting the two).
So Superman trains like crazy doing half-sets and skipping abs and watching the clock, and when I get to the changing room at 1910 he’s already showered and dressed and practically ready to run out of there.
And if we needed any final confirmation that he is, in fact, straight, he gets the deodorant out, sprays it all over his clothes (yes, on his trousers, on his shirt, over his head) and leaves.
I think I might leave Superman out for a bit, because a) he’s defo straight, b) nothing exciting is going to happen and c) I’m getting quite bored already.
PS. Oh my God. I have just discovered my favourite new artist that I've heard for ages. Go download Je veux te voir by Yelle to start with. It's French electro, a bit like Daft Punk mixed with Mia.
Which reminds me, do people mind it when I recommend songs/talk about bands? I'm sure there's a few people out there who are interested...yes/no?