Retrosexual life is going swimmingly. Today I went for a morning run in 33 degree heat to prove my manhood. I think I did quite well until I realised that I was no longer running but was lying in a ditch laughing insanely to myself and talking to a purple llama. This was followed by a cold shower and study of Spanish FHM in front of the Grand Prix. There's been a lot of talk about how to make motorsport more interesting- my own suggestions include each car carrying a box of sexually-frustrated minks that must be unleashed into the cockpit for the final ten laps. Sure, Lewis Hamilton can drive, but mink pacification is surely the ultimate test for an athlete. Lunch was bacon and fried cheese. Nice.
A brief outline of retrosexual activities planned for this week:
- no more shaving. Rambo didn't have Gillette and I seem to have misplaced my machete so I'll have to make do
- a quest to find the largest steak known to man and devour it with ease
-an investigation into bullfighting- Spain's answer to badger baiting (but still allowed)
-a pilgrimage to the Nou Camp in Barcelona; surely the mecca of retrosexuality
Retrosexual phrases to adopt and use every 10 minutes:
"At the end of the day..."
"Where's your fuckin common sense?"
"What the fook are you looking at?"
"Yeeeeeaaaaaah mate"
"Listen dis, listen dis. Who gets the best healthcare these days- a paedophile, an immigrant, or a tax-paying smoker? The answer will suprise you my friend..."
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