There were some special visitors at my local gym last week. There was a heat of the UK’s Strongest Man taking place nearby over the weekend and they were all in the cafe area. It made my workout seem futile as I wheeled around the corner to be confronted by about ten brick shithouses all gathered together chatting about nutrition.
In many ways watching the World’s Strongest Man is like accidentally flicking onto one of those preview programmes for a porn channel after the other half has gone to bed. It’s too loud, the best are Scandinavian and it’s ultimately pointless but at least you get to see some huge tits wobbling about.
As I left the gym I noticed the wives loading the luggage onto the tour bus.