Dearest Treacle, This is your body talking! Now… I feel the need to start this 3rd person type communikay because quite frankly I think you have gone lost your mind and I feel the need to intervene because you’re pissing me off and making me tired and work much harder than I feel like working…
What the fuck is wrong with you, are you high??! What’s with the days upon days of torture you have dragged me to this week. The 5 million crunches, star jumps, lunges by the squillion? Stop that shit you are making my butt hurt!!!!!
Now if I am not making myself clear *slaps myself in the face* how did THAT feel huh huh… you like that? *slap slap* Right, nowwww you know what it feels like to have no control and to have some daft ijjit, that being YOU, sign you up for boot camp without your say so.
May I suggest that you re-think this madness and perhaps try torture me in a different, more pleasant way next week like… perhaps placing a hot coal up my bum, orrrrr…. Pulling my fingernails out, or chopping my toes off because if you make me do one more squat I am dropping the arse right off you, just saying…
Now if you do not slow the fuck down, please be aware that I shall retaliate by randomly flinging your stupid head down the stairs, make you randomly shout “BALL SWEAT” in a meeting or leave your fingers behind just in time to “catch” that slamming door... I’m powerful that way. And yes, it may hurt me too initially, but I am also the one that operates opening the box of Voltaren!!!
You have been warned *pinches cheeks* so you go be a good girly girl now and go book us a spa day this weekend, I need my elbows buffed… and um, while you’re at it get Dalekins to rub my sore feet too or I’m pinching some random body builders bum and blaming it on him! *sweet smile*
Yours truly,
Gatvol
