Fag Hag Diary

Wednesday

Fag Hag bumps into her favourite movie spunk while sweating heavily!

Sparkle!

Today started like any other day: I bid adieu to the posse of Thai male escorts, did a spot of hoovering in gold mules and marabou underwear and then headed off to the gym…

Whilst attempting to give myself buns of steel (as opposed to buns of blancmange) and biceps like Madonna in the ‘Open Your Heart’ days, my eyes alighted upon a rather ravishing sight. He was tall, tanned, dark and from behind looked like he should be listed under the Wiki entry for handsome.

I decided to try and check out my handsome stranger properly by attracting him with a spot of ‘money shot’ aerobic activity but alas he was engrossed in his weights – oh, to be those dumbells.

I left and headed up the road to console myself with a browse in M&S when who should I spot in the Count on Us area but my beautiful stranger. Still looking devastating in his tracksuit bottoms (what! no shower?) but also wearing shades and looking for the life of me like… ‘Oh, my god! It’s Clive Owen,’ whispered a woman.

Of course, if it had been a Hollywood film, Clive and I would have banged trollies causing me to break a bottle of champagne, him to apologise before telling me I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen followed by a swift proposal in the frozen fish aisle. Sadly, he was far more interested in a bag of washed, peeled carrots than in the Fag Hag’s charms. But one thing’s certain: that goddamn gym’s suddenly starting to look more appealing. See you in the sauna, Clivetta…

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7 comments to “Fag Hag Diary”

  1. Oi, Fag Hag. What gym is this? Please tell me. I swear I won’t be down there in a very hi-cut leotard…

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  2. OMG x34838483298478458. Clive fucking Owen!! I want him too hard.

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  3. Typical! The most exciting person I’ve seen in my gym is fucking Trisha!!

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  4. I’m excited by Trisha, just not in that way.

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  5. She was wearing black cycling shorts and a white vest, in case you’re interested. Oh, and black trainers. And some socks.

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  6. I saw Merlene Ottey, the Jamaican sprinter in my gym once. And half the Australian cricket team were there too, on another occasion. And then some bloke who wasn’t famous, but a sexy silver fox all the same was also a regular. He would wear lycra leggings which would show off a MA-HOOSIVE cock. Still not quite as good as seeing Clive. He lovely. But so was the mahoosive cock, come to think of it. Decisions, decisions.

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  7. […] Oh but now see, what’s happened is, people like us have had our ears pricked and we’re all going off on one saying things like, ‘But of course he ain’t the sexiest bloke alive, silly, it’s palpably Daniel Craig or Clive Owen or Hugh Jackman or that bloke who hangs around the showers down the YMCA most mornings,’ therefore fulfilling the purpose of such polls in the process ie. press coverage. And c) and d). […]

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