02 May 2012
AS A gentle-man who has reached the very peak of physical fitness, I am often asked by those still clambering about in the foothills of physical fitness how they might one day hope to scale such heights, and sit atop the Mountain of Masculinity alongside me.
The short answer is: you cannot, for I am quite the one-off, and the chances of another such fine specimen of humanity e’er being forged is as remote as the chances of women ever getting the chance to vote. Pure fantastical folly.
However, if you are truly determined, then you may be able to fool others that you are at least a little bit trim by sporting one of the corsets illustrated above, which brings in your unsightly, bulging stomach while simultaneously denying the bearer the facility to breathe, which in turn could prove useful as eating whilst passed out is very difficult indeed. However, extreme caution is advised, as I have witnessed people tying these damned things so tightly that they have literally forced their skeletons out through their mouths as a result. Grim viewing indeed, though one cannot deny the weight-loss that ensues.
Aside from that, my personal fitness regime is threefold:
1. Adventuring. Whether I be leaping across train carriages in pursuit of some bounder or other, of fleeing for my life from irate husbands who have found me in bed with their wives (see point 3), I am constantly on the move and burning up calories like nobody’s business. Not recommended for those with weak hearts, or weak bladders, mind.
2. Twatting beggars. Thrashing the filthy, wretched paupers that litter the streets of our fair capital keeps me remarkably trim, and has helped me to develop some rather formidable biceps. If you were to have tickets to come and see my personal gun show, you would not be disappointed (and if you were, I’d possibly shoot you with a real gun to stop the negative reviews from spreading).
3. Intercourse. My favourite part of my exercise plan. Leaping in and out of bed with a multitude of women has done wonders for my muscles (especially my love-muscle), and has given me the stamina of twenty men, which is why women often tell me that making love to me is a lot like making love with a one-man orgy.
So there you have it, my three-pronged guide to success! You shall never look as good as me, of course, but at least you might look rather less repulsive than you undoubtedly do at this moment.
Now drop down and give me twenty (guineas, this advice is not free, you know).
– Lord Likely.