I’ve a busy day ahead. It starts with shooting my Christmas workout DVD late morning, followed by an afternoon meander around the retail establishments of our fair metropolis.
I’m not overly fussed about the shopping as I’m just giving family and friends my Christmas fitness DVD as festive gifts. Irrespective of this, I’ve told my wife I’d accompany her in the quest to shorten her yuletide present list.
She really appreciated my offer of companionship around our bustling city, telling me “Thanks….. Oh, and don’t wear those jeans with the faulty zip fastener!” I thought her sentiments of gratitude were overly gushy, but I’m a cynical old soul.
So as soon as I’ve finished writing this monologue, I’ll be digging out the lurid lycra, the leg warmers and an old sweat headband to venture into town to shoot the DVD. With a subsequent post lunch rendezvous post with the missus.
The fitness shoot was the idea of a mate who has his own video company. He has generously reduced his production prices, meaning all I have to buy him is a hamster called Bert and a Cadbury’s Creme Egg.
His only stipulation is that I don’t do the video in my jeans with the faulty zip fastener. I gladly agreed to that, as I can imagine doing the splits in tight denim trousers is not without chafing!
If truth be told, I’m a bit reticent about the fitness shoot. After all, after a period of indifference towards exercise, I’m nowhere near as fit as I’d like to be. The most physically strenuous I’ve been recently has been to grow a beard!
The music accompanying the workout will be a selection of songs my brother Ian composed (or invented as he calls it). This includes his festive single I’m Getting Shoes for Christmas.
I’ve never heard the songs to judge their suitability for this genre of video, but our Ian was cheaper than my first choice (Sting), not to mention he got me the hamster, so I had no hesitation engaging his services.
The only stipulation was that when he’s stood singing with his acoustic guitar he doesn’t wear lycra….. Or, indeed, my jeans with the flawed zip. He agreed to this over the phone yesterday, before venturing out to get the hamster.
Not long into his search, he rung me to inform me “I’m having a real problem finding a hamster called Bert, Gaz!”
Unsure of what he was alluding to, I asked my younger brother to clarify his audibly weak phone message to confirm I hadn’t misheard.
“I’ve seen loads of hamsters, Gaz…. But none of them are called Bert!” he puzzlingly responded.
“It doesn’t matter, Cheesy (his nickname). Just get any of them and we’ll tell the video producer he’s called Bert.” I exasperatedly informed my bro.
“What if he finds out the hamster isn’t really called Bert?!” Cheesy boy inquired.
“How will he find out?…. The bloody hamster isn’t going to tell him, you berk!” I ranted at my somnolent sibling. Before adding “Just make sure it’s a male hamster and it doesn’t eat the Cadburys Crème Egg and we’re laughing!”
“How do you tell the difference?” he then fecklessly queried.
“Well I imagine the males will have a todger. Just check them out!” I responded, despairing at how the conversation was evolving.
”I’ve already checked, Gaz….. It’s not that easy to differentiate the sexes of hamsters!” Cheesy advised me.
“Well if you can’t find the Ron Jeremy of the hamster world, just ask the pet shop owner.” I suggested despairingly.
After a period of silence, my brother returned to the phone to tell me “I’ve got one, Gaz….. It’s not called Bert, he’s called Chipples but we’ll lie to the video production mate of yours, as you suggested!”
Relieved that our inane conversation was drawing to a conclusion, and wondering who the hell names a hamster Chipples, I thanked our Ian and ended the call.
Right, I best get my skates on, fitness workout DVD’s don’t shoot themselves!