Buck$ Night Photo Album

Fucking brilliant night!!! And even better friends.




In fact, making the call early, most fun party of 2011!




Buck$ Night was an Australian Marriage Equality fundraiser so they can continue their amazing work fighting for gay marriage recognition. Congratulations and thank you to Alex Greenwich and AME, not only for a fabulous night but also for working so hard on behalf of the gay and lesbian community.




Now they say a picture says a 1000 words. I think you'll agree that these pictures show exactly how much fun Buck$ Night was. Enjoy!

My boys... Paulie, Shaun, EnGy, Dimples, TheFlack, Dazzle, Miles, Brad, Ross, Jonny, Adam, Rhys and our new favourites Alex and Victor - LOVE YOU GUYS! Thanks for a fantastic night for a brilliant and worthwhile cause. 




xoxoxo

St. Murphy




P.S and thanks so much EnGy for letting me use some of your photos. x

Not good with new people. But Grindr...???

As a general rule I like people. When I am
around people I know I have a good time. I’m relaxed.

I’m not good with new people. New people
scare me. The running joke at work is that it can be years before I remember
your name. It’s the whole polite thing that makes me nervous. I’m not very good
at being polite. In fact for a Communications Professional it is an outright
miracle I’ve ever been able to hold on to a job at all. Let alone be any good
at it.

Around my friends or in the office I am
possibly the rudest, crudest man in the world. Familiarity for me breeds
offensiveness. My ‘go-to-one-liner’ will always be crass. It’s how I role and
30+ years of conditioning.

But online, with the giant buffer of the
computer screen, I am nowhere near as uncomfortable with new people as I am in
person. Taking even the briefest moment to compose a (semi) polite response
makes a huge difference for me. I’m even sure some people who don’t know me in
person could actually think I am quite lovely from what they know of me online.

Which leads me to my problem.

I’m newly single as of earlier this year
and slowly but surely I’m putting myself back out there again. I’m jumping on
the dating Merry-Go-Round. And having been ‘coupled’ for such a long time it’s
a whole new world compared to the last time I was single. Now, everything
happens online. And I mean EVERYTHING! Especially for the gayers. Just Grindr
alone has completely and dramatically changed dating in the gay community.

An example of a Grindr homepage

For those unaware of Grindr… It’s a
GPS-based messaging system for the hummersexuals. It’s an iPhone app (the
reason why all gayers have iPhones!) that when you turn it on it tells you how
far away other gayers are – within metres. It is truly the greatest invention
the world has ever seen. And as it is culturally acceptable within the gay
community, everyone is incredibly direct about what they are looking for –
chat, dates, relationship, a root, any and all of the above. It’s the envy of
all straight men.

You check out their pics, you check out what
they are looking for, you check out if you know anyone or have been there
before. You then instant message with who ever and as many as you want while
you find what you are looking for. Basically it means that you can pick up
without leaving the comfort of your own lounge. My theory is that it has made
gay men the laziest species in the world. It’s easier for the gayers to find
‘company’ than rabbits.

A Grindr profile

But back to my original story.

So I’m putting myself back out there.
Chatting to boys all over the place. Online I am somewhat polite,
semi-intelligent, mildly amusing. But as you know, in person I am bordering on
being a complete asshole. So I’ve been chatting away for a while now but at
some point you have to put your money where your mouth is (or where you want it
to be) and actually meet the boys your chatting with.

A Grindr chat

Which, finally, leads me to my dilemma. Who I
am in person can be very different to who I am online – especially when
flirting with boys. When I actually go on these dates, and with the existing
familiarity we’ve developed online, is my opening line going to be “What the
fuck have you done with your hair?”. Or “Ohhhh, I see you’ve stacked on some
weight!”  

I just don’t know if I can trust myself to
be polite with new people. On a date. The thought of being polite throughout a
whole meal sends shivers of fear up my spine.

This is all too much for a 39 year old to
learn.

I am starting to think that my Grindr profile
should come with a warning…

“May seem like someone you’d like to meet
now but chances are he’ll be VILE by dessert.”

This ended up much longer than originally anticipated
so ‘the actual dates’ will become Part 2 of this post at a later date.

Also, its really important to me that you know I have taken all these pics from the Grindr website and haven't breached the privacy of anyone on Grindr. 

Cause that would just be fucking rude!

What do you hide on a one-night-stand?

Of course I would never have to worry about this because I am like the Virgin Mary and pure as the driven snow. It’s true, some even call me angelic. But if I was to have a ‘gentleman caller’, what is it in Man Pit that would cause me embarrassment? This is what I am thinking about today. And sadly not because there is any action on the horizon, more just about being a good boy scout.

If you had a 15min window before a new ‘special friend’ entered your home for some ‘adult cuddles’ what are the things that you would run around and hide? As I’m sure many of you would know, some of the best relationships can come out of a one-night-stand. You should always put your best foot forward on night one just incase. Here are the things I would make sure they never see if ever my morals lapsed.

Jackie Collins books

I went through a serious Jackie Collins phase in my late teens, in fact it was Jackie who taught me about sex. And drugs. And Hollywood. She has huge sentimental value for me. Subsequently I still have a few of her more infoamous titles on my otherwise esteemed bookshelf. Not sure what others would make of them...

My hair bands

My gorgeous long flowing locks are obvious to anyone. But what I’d like to hide is that my guilty pleasure when I am at home alone is to wear a fetching head band. Not very butch I know but it makes me feel very glamorous on couch-nights.

R M Williams boots

Not that I’m embarrassed by them but to try and explain how a boy from the bush and a wearer of R M Williams boots comes to be ‘seducing’ a manly man is terribly unromantic. It’s just best to avoid the telling of that story.

Medicine cabinet

I’m a pill-popper. There is no ailment I can’t cure with a few pills from my overstocked medicine cabinet. Any gentleman caller could momentarily think I’ve brought them home to St Vincents Hospital if they caught a glimpse of my medicine cabinet. Only drug I'm missing is Viagra which would probably be the one they are looking for.

Scarves

And when I say scarf think Jackie Onassis. Like the square, soft, feminine ‘sailing in the Mediterranean’ type scarf. It’s a recent thing. I love them, buy them, but can never find an occasion to wear them. Also, I now question if it’s ever appropriate for a man to wear such a scarf.

Ashtray

Its full. And disgusting. Even though I’m currently describing myself as a non-smoker. Surely a non-smoker is anything less than 20 a day??? No one likes a liar or a smoker.

Collection of recycling bags

Some may call it a fetish, whereas I call it environmentally friendly. Every time I go to the supermarket I buy another 1+ of those gorgeous green bags. I now have a whole shelf full. I should really learn to recycle my environmentally friendly shopping bags. Just plain weirdo.

Yoga dvd

Now this would just be false advertising. I did yoga for exactly two weeks and still giggled every time they asked me to do a downward-dog. I have absolutely no idea where this dvd came from even. Its never left its case. If they thought they were potentially up for some yoga moves from me they’d be sadly disappointed. Lucky to touch my toes.

More dog food than human food

Not sure why any one-night-stand would be in my pantry but I’m sure if they took a look they’d be mightily concerned. I have more dog food and snacks than I do human. I make no secret that I take better care of Little Sammy than I do of myself and there is no better demonstration of this than a quick glimpse in my pantry. Let me be clear... I don't eat dog food.

Rotted teeth

I’m a hoarder. Sad but true. I also have a box of particularly precious items. I have some extracted teeth in there. Say no more.

Puffer vest

Please god, no one tell Mrs Woog! My puffer vest is the tip of the iceberg when it comes to my wardrobe, but exemplary of the issues it could cause me. I just can't be sexy 24/7, 52 weeks a year.

Ok, now I realize if that I was to have a one-night-stand I would need far longer than 15mins to clean up Man Pit. “Just wait in the hallway will you love, be back in 30.”









Now, most importantly, what is it that you would hide??? I'm aching to know!

Enough with the Crazies! Time for the cool people.

God damn there have been a lot of crazy people around this week! I’m absolutely max’d out.

What about the American ‘academic’ at the anti-gay marriage rally in Canberra who said that “there is no greater evil” and likened gay marriage to paedophilia.

"It won't stop at homosexual marriage - look for polygamy and marriage between adults and children to be legalised. There is no greater dream for a paedophile than to be able to legally acclaim a child as his lover."

She’s so smart, I literally have no words to respond with.

Then there was Miranda Devine who seemed to blame the London riots on gay marriage and was banging on about straights being second-class citizens. Oh dear. Her retaliation to the outrage her original post caused was even more nonsensical.

Don’t even get me started on Bob Katter and Barnaby Joyce. They were elected by the people so they probably scare me the most.

But I’m real tired of people like these four hogging all of the media attention on the issue of gay marriage. They are not the ones we should be highlighting or drawing attention to.

There are some amazing, beautiful people out there who should be getting all of our attention. They are smart, logical, coherent. They are making their own protest in their own way within their own community. And as far as I’m concerned they are far more important and influential than any of the nutcases mentioned above.

And, most importantly, they come from many different walks of life, varied generations and of all sexualities. Let me introduce some of them to you…

The first is BigWordsBlog. This is a beautiful woman who took it upon herself earlier in the week to start a campaign around the I Love Equal Love button that she created. She encouraged all bloggers who support Equality to post the button on their page. See mine to the right (and above). How fucking brilliant is that! So simple, so smart, so profound. You will see this button everywhere now in the blogosphere. Mums like Bianca have a phenomenal impact on this debate.

Big Words: The Right For Equal Love

Next on my Hero list is Holly_Homemaker. Direct, succinct, her message is as clear as a bell. Miss Holly is another one of the amazing mummy-bloggers who uses her page to speak her mind and make an impact. You can see from this post she says and does whatever she thinks, and you gotta respect that. Here is her post on gay marriage.

Good Golly Miss Holly: Don't be a shit, let them commit! #EqualLove

So you are starting to see why it gives me the shits that the morons mentioned at the top get any media attention.

TwitchyCorner is a brilliant writer. She posted this week on Gay Marriage. My favourite line was on the seperation of church and state… “It’s just that I fail, and will always fail, to see how organised faith has any right to impinge upon the laws and freedoms of the wider, secular population.” You rock Twitchy, could not agree more. Here is her post…

Twitchy Corner: Still Not Enough Gay Lovin About

Faerinelda is a longtime Twitter buddy, and she’s all over this one like a rash. She’s a good woman! My favourite line is “Your religion may shout against it, your heart may not like it and your head might not understand it but just so you know, this is exactly how I feel about people who make pavlova with low fat cream! gasp.”

An Auntie ... Nothing More!: I love #equallove & I love #equallove Take Two

Macsnorky is very cool! So is her blog. She sings from the same hymn book as BigWordsBlog. I love these women!

Desktop and Dust Bunnies: I Love Equal Love

Before we head off to speak with some of my favourite gayers I want Mrs Woog to put her own special Woogsworld spin on this debate. Mrs Woog marched with us last Saturday. Her post that day was inspired!

Woogsworld: Fuck You!

See there are heroes everywhere in our communities who are trying to make a difference and rid of us inequality. I have so much respect for them, so much respect!

And now over to the gays, cause god knows I LOVE THE GAYS!! Arrjaydub is a friend of mine, and is much smarter than me and better with words. He has penned a truly brilliant piece in retaliation to Cruella Devine. His words need to be read by as many people as possible! For he is genius!

The Best Policy: Gay marriage is not a big deal.

“It was about getting together with a group of people with the same goal in mind, getting out on the streets and making sure people knew that you were there to support a cause. It was a protest, but it was also a celebration of who we are, and what we're after.” Very wise words from En_gy. And why I love him.

Bigger on the Inside: Equal love rally. I was there.

Also taking a very clever stab at Cruelle Devine is comedian, influencer and media guy TomCBallard. I love this. Love it A LOT!

Miranda Devine: What The F&*k Are You Talking About?

Final word must go to Dr Kerryn Phelps who has been campaigning for many years for the rights of homosexuals. Her measured, eloquent, and at times amusing response to Cruella was remarkable in its refrainment. I’d love for you to read her piece as a fitting end to this celebration of all those who are fighting the good fight. It is only a matter of time before gay marriage is legalised in Australia as we have so many smart, wonderful, compassionate people fighting for the cause.

The Hoopla: Miranda, A Wine With Your Whine?

So lets not be distracted by the freaks who hog the media spotlight. Lets all focus on the men and women who are making a difference in their own communities with their sensible and eloquent words. 

Do you think I should be dating?

Yesterday I was banging on about being a filthy pig. As a flippant comment I ended the post saying I think I needed a boyfriend/cleaner to sort out my hygiene issues.

But this got me thinking. My mind doesn’t work like a normal persons, rather it’s a scattered mess of crazy thoughts. It’s like a Rubik’s cube of zigzagging ideas and scatterbrain thoughts.

Hey, would dating again be such a bad thing? Is being alone all the time really what I want?

If this had crossed my mind in the last 6 months I’d shudder at the thought. I have been determinedly single. If I’ve ever met anyone I’ve been very clear that I will forget their name in 3 hours. One of the reasons for ‘the break-up’ is that I genuinely feel that I’d be happier living a life alone. I’m not good at sharing. Anything.

So what the hell were these thoughts? Dating? Surely not.

           

Once the seed had been planted my synapses started firing all over the place. First thought was ‘what the hell is dating now days anyway?’ and ‘do 39 year olds even date?’. I have absolutely no idea.

I’ve never been good at dating. In fact, I reckon you could count the number of dates I’ve been on in my adult life on one hand. My memory is bereft of good or bad dating experiences. My track record speaks for itself. Every boyfriend I’ve ever had – 2 serious, a couple other worthy mentions – I’ve met in bars or nightclubs under the influence of vodka. Each time I’ve gone straight from ‘Hi how are you?’ to head-over-heals in love. I’m very lesbian like that.

I met The Sculptor in a bar on a Friday night and on the Monday he quit his job in Melbourne to move to Sydney so we could be together. Aschappelle and I moved in together after 4 months and bought our first house after 9 months. Dating was not part of either of my two life-changing relationships. And in between relationships I’m usually too hell-bent on having fun to worry about dating. Maybe some slutting around nightclubs but that’s it.

I’m 99% sure I do not want a relationship so can I really trust myself to date without ending up back in one? Me thinks not. Not with my track record.

The other thing is that gay men have built this whole system of what can almost be considered ‘anti-dating’. We have all these tools in place where it is unbelievably easy to meet ‘like-minded’ (horny!) gay men. Online, iPhone apps, etc; our community may be fighting the good fight for Gay Marriage but there is also a recognition that there are advantages to single men loving other men. Grindr in particular has changed gay-dating forever!

But Grindr is a whole other post, and will come with a Parental Warning.

Which brings me back to ‘what the hell is dating in 2011’ and am I too old? So there is the cute boy at the fruit and veg store on Crown St, do we go for a gelato and call it a date? Or the hot boy at the gym who is most likely straight (gym attire tells you so much), if we shared a protein shake is that a quasi-straight-date? (yeh, I know you know I don’t know what a protein shake is) And what about those hot single boys on Twitter, if we met in person does that constitute a date? So goddamn confused!

And the age thing. 39. Even using the word ‘dating’ makes me uncomfortable. It seems a concept aimed at those much younger than I. Perhaps from your mid-30’s onwards we should start to call it something else? Like ‘judging’ or ‘interviewing’. Just an idea.

So after all these thoughts have been zig-zagging through my Rubik’s cube brain there is only one clear answer. NO, I should not be dating. The fact that it confused the hell out of me is a clear indication it is not for me. If I’m scared of it, don’t really know what it is or what I want from it then I really shouldn’t be doing it.

I’ll stick to nights on the couch with my Law And Order’s for a little bit longer.

Unless of course the guy at the fruit and veg shop asked me out. Then all bets are off.

My Gaydar is Shit!

For a professional homosexual I have shocking gaydar!

Gaydar is the alleged sixth sense of the hummersexuals to quickly, and without embarrassment, determine if they have a chance of bedding their fellow man. It is a skill that the hummersexuals are trained in from their very early days on Oxford St. Learning to use your gaydar is akin to straight people learning how to pub-pash on the dancefloor.

But what exactly is gaydar? Well, it’s very difficult to describe. It’s a weird mix of body language and lightening quick judgements. It can involve a visual assessment of wardrobe, grooming and styling. Voice also plays a key role, and you can also garner a lot of information from touch. All the senses really! Most importantly it is the feeling that you get when you sense someone is imagining you naked.

Badly tuned gaydar, they had to go camping for weeks before working it out!

Good gaydar is key to a hummersexuals survival. It is a vital weapon in our arsenal to ensure that mating takes place. And as you will be very aware, the hummersexual is dead keen to mate as much as possible. Good gaydar assists greatly in satisfying the purely physical needs of the hummersexual. But it is also crucial in matters of the heart. There is nothing worse, and I speak very authoratively on the subject, than the hummersexual falling in love with the dreaded straight man. Can only end in tears, heartbreak and morbidly embarrassing drunken moments.

Another reason a finely-tuned gaydar is required is that despite the modern stereotype, the hummersexual now comes in every shape, form and dress-code. Gone are the days when a tight pant, a sleeveless T and a distinct lisp were a clear and definitive indicator you had a chance of mating. Now it’s as confusing as hell as everyone from your accountant to the truckie you just side-swiped can be a hummer. There are even straights who like Gaga. Geography used to also be a dead give-away – a single man living in 2010 was a certain hummer, now they are spread out all over the entire city like rabbits.

Gone are the days of this stereotype

My gaydar is completely out of whack. I think the reason is that I relaxed, dropped my guard, and turned it off for a few years. My skills turned rusty. I used to be proud that I could spot a hummer at 100 paces, now I’m lucky to know for sure unless they lick my face (which happens oh so rarely!). When you are in a relationship you don’t need to know which are the hummers cause you ain’t looking for a shag 24/7 like the single hummer. Now I’m back on the market I find I’m constantly confused.

So now that I have my single-gay-man training wheels back on I need to play it real safe. If I stick to the hummer-hotspots I can’t go so wrong. Stonewall (smells like vomit), Arq (too fat to get up on the podium), Nevermind (15years too old to get past security) or my favourite despite my recent fall, The Imperial (where normal, more mature gays go to dance to Kylie). At these place I can surely cope with my under-performing gayer.

My beloved Imperial Hotel

For the moment I am not brave enough to test my gaydar outside of these comfort zones. Having said that, I’ve never been one of those hummers that picks up on public transport or on Level 2 of David Jones in the city. I always wished I was that sort of gay but even at the peak of my hummer powers this was not something that St. Murphy could pull off (no pun intended). Now that the kryptonite of middle-age has diminished my ablities somewhat I need to rely on the dimmed lights of a crowded bar and my witty, intellectual repertoire to lure any possible prey.

That is until I re-establish and fine-tune my gaydar again then watch out shopping centres and sporting events – this hummer will be back in the game!

Three Little Nuggets!

I swear my watch just jumped forward six days! If I didn’t know better I'd say I've been cast in a bad sci-fi movie about time travel (I got the role over Eric Bana). Since drinks with Mummy-Bloggers it feels like 6 days got crammed into 24hours. 99% of my life I’m sitting on the couch, eating pizza and wondering why I don’t have a life; then for 1% it’s a crazy, psycho blur. I’ve used up double my year’s quota of activity just in the last week.

But for the sake of my beloved blog I’m trolling out three stories from the last week that ring clear in my head. All for different reasons. St. Murphy has become bizarrely like a diary for me, which was never my intention, I had hoped to be more interesting than that. It appears I’m too self-centred to write about anything but myself (Shock! Horror!.. St. Murphy you’re not self-centred).

Story 1 – Royal Wedding

Hello Boys!

I would never in my wildest dreams have predicted that I would be so transfixed by this fairytale. I fell hook, line and sinker during Ten’s appalling telemovie which had me on the edge of my seat. Then from the moment my beloved Kate stepped out of the hotel I was in tears. No joke! Miss Cal will vouch for me, she was on the couch beside me. We were literally in a trance the whole ceremony. It was truly spectacular and amazingly beautiful. Maybe there is a romantic deep inside me after all.

A-Dorable!

So many highlights! The trees, the music, the dress, David Beckham, my new best-friend Pippa. The 6 priests, the hats, the carriages, the crowds swarming towards Buckingham Palace. It was 5 hours of heaven! The absolute highlight on my little couch was during the national anthem when Miss Call, who is normally super-intelligent, turned to me and said “Why isn’t the Queen singing?” To her credit she realised her error immediately and we were hysterical! SHE IS THE QUEEN, ITS ABOUT HER! My only non-pure, un-romantic thought during the whole thing was about the James Middleton / Prince Harry sandwhich that I am sure is on the menu.

My fav Archbishop cause his eyebrows are bigger than mine!

Story 2 – So grown-up and brave!

Was south of the border in Melbourne on a work trip over the weekend. Had a lovely cocktail party, a gorgeous dinner, then a quick disco nap – as you do on a Saturday night. You know how it is when you are newly single and determined to be a part of everything? I know this will ring bells with some of you. I wanted to go out and dance on a podium waving my arms in the air like I just don’t care! My hurdle – I couldn’t find anyone who would go out with me. Was feeling rather sad and lonely, fat and ugly, who know one wanted to play with – then I had a very Oprah moment and forcibly made myself pretty and went out to the Greyhound... ON MY OWN. So grown-up and brave.

Reno'd Greyhound. It did fill up. (haha file pic)

Now I can’t remember doing this since 1996 when I first moved to Sydney. Difference then was I was young, thin, had big gorgeous hair and didn’t get tired if I lifted my arms above my shoulders. I distinctly remember I had no problem making friends. Oh how times have changed. I spent nearly all night standing sadly in a corner sucking on double-vodka’s and B&H Fine. I forgot the key element of going out on your own – you have to be prepared to approach and start conversation. And no way am I doing that! As I’ve been saying for years, I’m not good with new people. Too old to make new friends. Luckily I had the young-gay-Melbourne’s obsession with hair-product to keep me entertained. So much hair-product it was both hilarious and disturbing. Please note boys; if you are not a model do not get a model-like haircut, and if it takes more than 3 minutes to do you hair than the cut is not working for you. Thank god I am now back in Sydney where I do not have to go out by myself and the gays respect their hair.

Story 3 – Hang-over cure fail.

Had a work party on Sunday night which is my ABSOLUTE FAVOURITE night of the year. It is the one and only night of the year I wear a tie – even bought a new one. Now you may have heard me brag here before that over the years I have mastered the hang-over cure. Being interstate I didn’t have all the ingredients so I woke up (late) on Monday with one of the most debilitating hang-overs ever. Speaking was a huge issue, brain-function was the equivalent of an NRL forward. I stumbled into work looking like the grim-reaper. I don’t even think my shoes and belt were the same colour leather.

New tie - so proud!

To cut to the chase on tedious tale, I am writing this to extend my sincere thanks to Qantas. More specifically, Qantas Club! I bailed for the airport early after even the polite receptionist said I looked like shit and then slept in the cab the whole way. Qantas couldn’t bring my flight forward – damn to hell that discount ticket – so I turned a lounge at QC into a make-believe bed, curled up cuddling what was left of my dignity, and slept for over an hour! Doesn’t matter what you pay for QC cause there is always one day a year you would give your life for a membership. Monday was that day. Thank you also to the check-in guy (who earlier I despised) who had the good sense to keep the seat beside me free on the plane. My breath was horrific and there would have been complaints. Moral to the story, I want to have my 40th at Qantas Club.

My beloved Qantas Club

So just three little nuggets (tried for gold, more likely shit) that in a nutshell sum up the last 6 days. The emotional highs of the Royal Wedding  and Sunday night down to the crassness of passing out in Qantas Club. Talk about highs and lows – I’m practically Lindsay Lohan.

Two very important Life Lessons!

Life Lesson No. 1

You may recall that I've bucked ‘the break-up’ trend and stacked on the weight rather than shed it after becoming a single man. No one likes a fat homo, especially other homo’s, so I’ve joined my new local gym. I heard that they have equipment that if you stand on them you lose weight. And this place seems so much friendlier than my old gym that I donated too, which was the gayest gym in the world. I felt like I needed to do my hair before, during and immediately after a workout. My new gym is a little more, shall I politely say, down-to-earth.

Life Lessons from St. Murphy

I went for the first time yesterday and it was an all-round horrifying experience. First off it was very early morning so the synapses were hardly firing. Had trouble in the changerooms working out the locker situation, had to go and ask the lovely/cute receptionist the protocol. It seems I need to bring my own lock. So I finally get to the X-trainer and I 100% guarantee you it’s the biggest machine I’ve ever seen. I’d been on them before but not this big. Twice I dropped my iPod, keys and stuff while trying to mount that sucker. So embarrassing. I could feel eyes all on me thinking ‘how unco’.

Its quite lovely in photos

Keeping in mind I’m 38 not 105, I thought I’d be able to bash out a 30min workout. At the 7 min mark I knew I was in trouble, by 12 mins I was gasping for my last breathe and the controls – dragged that down to 20mins. By the time I’d finished I was a mess – mentally and physically. What has happened to me? When did I become an old man??? Somewhere between Absolut, Benson &Hedges and Pizza Hut Delivery I’d lost my fitness.

So ashamed that’s all I could do I thought 15mins on the treadmill would redeem me somewhat. What the hell was I thinking? At 3mins I reduced that to 10mins but by the 8 min mark I realized my health was in danger and I desperately, achingly need to be seated on a toilet STAT!. I pushed through to the end and than ran. The grief and mortification I felt when I realized that the toilet, with gaps above and below the door, was right on the edge of the changeroom was overwhelming. Lets just say I ain’t making any new friends at the gym anytime soon.

It was such a horrific experience that I know, without a doubt, that I need to go everyday! Otherwise I will be dead or a Sumo within 2 years.

Life Lesson No. 1 – Gyms are embarrassing and horrific places, but sadly if you don’t go you become a fat homo.

Me in 2 years unless I go to Gym!

Life Lesson No. 2

I’ve never been very good in the kitchen; I have no interest, no skill, no flair for the culinary. Had been very lucky that last few years to have someone who enjoyed cooking and prepared most of my evening meals. Now at Man Pit I am my own Shopper/Chef so I thought I’d give a simple steak and steamed veg a crack - I mean really, how hard can it be.

First obstacle, the George Foreman steamer that was a Xmas gift has no life left in it. Foreman himself went 16 rounds, not this steamer unfortunately. So within 2 mins I was down to just the steak (don’t even own a saucepan or microwave which says a lot about how I cook). I whip out my brand spanking new Jamie Oliver Tefal frypan, so shiney and pretty, and off I go. In hindsight, I think my mistake was not turning on the exaust fan cause within 2 mins the fire alarm was BLARING through my shoebox apartment. I’m waving tea towels, I’m unscrewing the fire alarm, I am depseratley trying to find a switch on a wall somewhere. Nothing would shut that thing down.

Little bastard!

Than to my horror my neighbour’s started buzzing through the intercom – THE ALARM GOES THROUGH THE WHOLE BUILDING!!! Holy hell, I hadn’t even met them yet! I scrambled downstairs in my comfy pants and headband where my new favourite neighbour and the owner of the business downstairs are franticly trying to disarm the alarm before the fire brigade get there. MORTIFIED!!! You need a science degree to do this, and only with their help and guidance, the alarm was turned off. I ate the steak half raw rather than try to cook that cow anymore.

Life Lesson No. 2 – Never, ever cook for yourself. Always order take-away or eat out. Do not endanger the lives of others by turning on a hotplate.

And you just know that the firemen saving me from my steak would NOT have looked like this!