Poor, knackered old sod. The lummox I mean. He really is a
physical wreck. An absolute shambles of a man and a warning to all of the
effects of gluttony and sedentary living. And so he’s been off to see the
doctor again this afternoon. Apparently its for something called fibromyalgia.
No, I haven’t got a clue what that is either but it seems to give him some jip.
Watching him shuffle about the place moaning and groaning just lately has left
me feeling almost sorry for the berk. Almost.
He should take after me. Healthy living is the only way
forward. Why, I haven’t been to see the vet in years. Don’t need to as I am in
perfect trim and as athletic as they come. I leap like a salmon onto the roof
of my boat whilst the lummox grovels up onto it with his bones creaking and his
reedy lips uttering all sorts of grunts and oaths. I sprint along the mooring
like an Olympian whilst he hobbles along like a lame cart horse.
Take my advice my chubby servant. Lose a few pounds and get
some exercise. Obviously you’re never going to be as svelte or as agile as me
but at least you won’t get out of breath opening a sachet of cat food or
answering the phone. Honestly, how he manages to go to work is beyond me. He
comes home drenched in sweat and collapses on the couch as soon as he gets in.
No wonder he needs to see the quack.
Anyway, he came waddling home with a prescription for some
painkillers and advice to not over do it. Over do it??? He couldn’t over do it
if his life depended on it. He’s as much use as a one-legged man at an arse
kicking competition most of the time. In fact, if anything, he’s constantly
under doing it. And, now, as a result he’s had to seek medical treatment. I
shall have to show him the way and lead by example. After all, as much as he
gets on my wick, I still need my staff to be fit and ready to serve.
Fibromyalgia be buggered!
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