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