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Victorian guy
New member
Parents ordered me to stop lifting!
Brothers,
I had the most unpleasant dinner Friday evening... a true disaster, brothers!
On Friday evening, I had dinner with my family. My father, a member of the House of Lords and an influential aristocrat, sat at the head of the table, and as we enjoyed a 7 course meal the subject drifted to that of my 'future.'
"Son, you are 32 years old...a graduate of one of England's top universities...bred of the finest stock...yet you waste yourself on this horrible bodybuilding nonsense. I demand it cease" he remarked.
I stopped chewing on my mouthful of pacific smoked salmon and, hands trembling, addressed my father "Father, I am going to be Mr. Olympia and bring honour to this family! You'll see....soon, I shall be the biggest, most developed human being in recorded history!" I declared. "It's simply revolting, really horrible...all those muscles...you MUST stop it! tsk tsk!" my 108 year old great-grandmother croaked.
I had had enough- "No man respects his elders as I, but this is infringing on my very reason for existence! FUCK ALL OF YOU FUCKING WANKERS! YOU'LL SEE!" I screamed, and struck the table with my fist with such force that it cracked down the middle. I picked up a bottle of 1903 Chateau de Lys red wine, chugged it down, and threw it against the wall, shattering it to bits! Screaming "NOBODY FUCKING UNDERSTANDS ME! ARRRGGH! FUUUUCK!!!" I flipped over the table and stormed out. My great-grandmother got in my way, and I picked her up and bodyslammed her on the hardwood floor! Nobby entered the scene, chain in hand, and was forced to hit my mother over the head with it as she came at me, snarling "Fook off, ye fookin bitch!" and she was sent headlong to the floor.
Nobby and I marched out. "Nobby, let's head to the gym...I'll show them all!" I roared, so loud that the house trembled.
"Roight. Fookin gym. Let's fookin do it" Nobby added, in his thick east-end of London accent.
We got to the gym...and it was closed! Seems that on Fridays it shuts at 930pm. Not to be dismayed, Nobby threw himself through the front door, and we entered and had the place to ourselves. After an incredibly hard-core workout, we ordered a 12-person Chinese meal, and Nobby gathered the various liquor bottles and cigars from the Rolls Royce and we drank and smoked cigars till the wee hours of the morning, then passed out on the gym floor. I awoke to a gymful of smoke- seems I must have dropped a lit cigar on the floor. As the fire spread and the sirens of fire engines neared, I woke Nobby and the two of us staggered out of the gym, and passed out in a back alley. Later that morning, as we headed down the street, passing the burnt out gym, I mentioned to Nobby "Seems the place burnt down. Oh well, I couldn't stand their 'no-injecting- in the locker room' nonsense!" I sneered.
"Fookin roight" Nobby commiserated.
Has anyone else had to suffer from parental disapproval of his Iron Warrior lifestyle?
Brothers,
I had the most unpleasant dinner Friday evening... a true disaster, brothers!
On Friday evening, I had dinner with my family. My father, a member of the House of Lords and an influential aristocrat, sat at the head of the table, and as we enjoyed a 7 course meal the subject drifted to that of my 'future.'
"Son, you are 32 years old...a graduate of one of England's top universities...bred of the finest stock...yet you waste yourself on this horrible bodybuilding nonsense. I demand it cease" he remarked.
I stopped chewing on my mouthful of pacific smoked salmon and, hands trembling, addressed my father "Father, I am going to be Mr. Olympia and bring honour to this family! You'll see....soon, I shall be the biggest, most developed human being in recorded history!" I declared. "It's simply revolting, really horrible...all those muscles...you MUST stop it! tsk tsk!" my 108 year old great-grandmother croaked.
I had had enough- "No man respects his elders as I, but this is infringing on my very reason for existence! FUCK ALL OF YOU FUCKING WANKERS! YOU'LL SEE!" I screamed, and struck the table with my fist with such force that it cracked down the middle. I picked up a bottle of 1903 Chateau de Lys red wine, chugged it down, and threw it against the wall, shattering it to bits! Screaming "NOBODY FUCKING UNDERSTANDS ME! ARRRGGH! FUUUUCK!!!" I flipped over the table and stormed out. My great-grandmother got in my way, and I picked her up and bodyslammed her on the hardwood floor! Nobby entered the scene, chain in hand, and was forced to hit my mother over the head with it as she came at me, snarling "Fook off, ye fookin bitch!" and she was sent headlong to the floor.
Nobby and I marched out. "Nobby, let's head to the gym...I'll show them all!" I roared, so loud that the house trembled.
"Roight. Fookin gym. Let's fookin do it" Nobby added, in his thick east-end of London accent.
We got to the gym...and it was closed! Seems that on Fridays it shuts at 930pm. Not to be dismayed, Nobby threw himself through the front door, and we entered and had the place to ourselves. After an incredibly hard-core workout, we ordered a 12-person Chinese meal, and Nobby gathered the various liquor bottles and cigars from the Rolls Royce and we drank and smoked cigars till the wee hours of the morning, then passed out on the gym floor. I awoke to a gymful of smoke- seems I must have dropped a lit cigar on the floor. As the fire spread and the sirens of fire engines neared, I woke Nobby and the two of us staggered out of the gym, and passed out in a back alley. Later that morning, as we headed down the street, passing the burnt out gym, I mentioned to Nobby "Seems the place burnt down. Oh well, I couldn't stand their 'no-injecting- in the locker room' nonsense!" I sneered.
"Fookin roight" Nobby commiserated.
Has anyone else had to suffer from parental disapproval of his Iron Warrior lifestyle?
