Blummin eck, it's quiet today.

I called out cheerily to the lonely-looking Personal Trainer mooching around the crash mats as if imagining himself jumping from a plane with a knife between his teeth towards a dark and brooding jungle fortress.

One of the PT's bulging muscles on his forehead throbbed slightly and he spoke whilst absent-mindedly posing in a nearby mirror like some kind of beefy Experminator.

Yeah mate, everyone is getting ready for Christmas, you know?

He threw the words out casually over his shoulder like they were kittens going into a bag.

Aye, still. It isn't quite Christmas yet...

I was feeling reasonably chatty, I had finished work for over two weeks and was looking forward to a slow and gentle descent into festive alcohol-fuelled madness.

Experminator looked up at the ceiling as if checking for Seagulls.

True enough mate...

He began to amble over to me.

Oh fuck, he was coming over. Too late I realised what I had done. I had spoken to a Personal Trainer at the gym. Everyone knows you don't do that because they are all cocks. Even the lady ones with the sexy thighs.

What kinda of gains are you looking for?

The Experminator loomed over me now. His unironic moustache glinting in the yellow light like a bad green screen effect.

What fucking what?

I tried not to squawk like a Canadian eating butter but it was hard.

What gains are you looking for mate?

The Experminator reached out with a musclebound finger and gently lifted up my left moob before letting it fall.

He grunted disapprovingly.

I looked in horror at his finger and then at him. Had he just fingered my boob? The BoomBoob? How fucking dare he? What next, would he ask me to go to a musical with him?

Listen, it is the end of the year. I will do you a deal...

The Experminator leaned in close and spoke out of the side of his mouth as if we were standing in a wood hoping not to scare the grouse.

SIgn up for a program with me and nobody will be kicking sand in your face on the beach this summer.

He chuckled muscularly as if he lived in a shit American teen drama and was wearing a cloth jacket with leather sleeves.

My right eyebrow raised so sneeringly high that half a mile away a lady fell off her bike into a puddle.

Sign up for a program?

I snorted disdainfully as if that guy down the market was trying to sell me magic beans again.

Aye...

The Experminator flexed his arm in two different ways and it looked like fat puppies were fighting under his taut slightly orange skin.

Listen, I will do you a deal. Two and a half sessions for ninety bucks. Can't say fairer than that.

He licked his own top teeth like an insane horse that needed shot.

Two and a half? A half? What the fuck is half a session?

I waggled my head as if haggling at a Chennai market.

The half is the one where we do the measurements. You know... Talk about what gains you want to achieve... Set your goals.

The Experminator looked confused and tailed off into mumbling something about protein shakes.

I stared at him pityingly.

No thanks but you know, have a nice half a Christmas.

I shook my head and walked away. Prick.