We like rowing, we do. So inspired were we, in fact, that in an unprecedented move we – by which we mean us – went to the gym on Saturday and had what is known in the business as a ‘workout’. And yeah, we were losery enough to go on the rowing machines in the belief that seven minutes thereon would give us that body like-that-up-there. On. Ooh, but our gym crush was there and there were looks and everything. He knows who he is. Actually he probably doesn’t.
Anyways, we’ve actually found it pretty tricksy indeed to find any pictures of our new lovers the British Olympic gold-winning rowers – them coxless four (hee hee. Cox) and the two-man boat ones. So this is the best we could manage. And we know we missed one of ’em out. The blond one in fact. He was probably too busy Herbal Essence-ing his hair.
So more after Jumpy. Oh, and the numbers on each picture are an aproximation – out of ten – of how much we’d bum each of them. It’s what is known in the business as a ‘no-brainer’.
*is all white-weed out*