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Victorian guy
New member
Greeting Brothers,
The other day, I was informed by an employee at the gym I was training at that workout bags are not permitted on the gym floor, and must remain in the locker room. I hate being discriminated against due to my Herculean, chiselled physique.
I was training with my chauffeur and personal security advisor, Nobby, and had a dufflebag with all the essentials:
straps, belt, dipping belt, a Weider 'Arm Blaster', a jug of protein powder, a container of creatine, syringes, at least 10 amps of test cyp(Miro Depot), a bottle of anadrol, cheque drops, gloves, a pair of 'Depends' and a clean set of underwear (just in case while, doing squats, I shit myself), an entire roasted chicken to snack on between sets, a tub of potato salad for carbs, a bottle of whiskey I nurse throughout the day, a fistful of cigars, and a survival knife- nothing special really. Simply the basic accoutrements of a dedicated Iron Warrior. I carry the duffle bag with me about the gym.
Nobby and I set up shop at the squat rack and while doing a set of 600 pound arse-to-the floor squats, a nasal, annoyingly effiminate voice barked "Sorry, no gym bags fellows. You must keep it in the change area." I racked the weight, and turned to see a pencil-necked weasel of a man standing there with his arms folded, looking indignant. "And who, may I ask, would YOU be?" I asked.
"I am an employee of this gym. Floor manager, in fact." Nobby and I moved closer to him, and he saw the end was near. "Fookin floor wot?" Nobby snarled. "Well then, 'floor manager', I have something on the floor for you to 'manage'!" I sneered, and promptly spat a large, green snotter onto the floor. Nobby then seized the 'floor manager' and threw him, face down, onto the snot and I stood over him, screaming "HOW DOES THAT FEEL, YOU FUCKING BASTARD! NO BAGS EH? NOW SEE WHAT YOU MADE ME DO! ARRHHG FUCK KILL!"
Roaring with rage, Nobby and I put the boots to the man, and after breaking most of his ribs we trashed the gym- flipping over pieces of equipment, beating down any gym members who hadn't fled in terror, and throwing the heaviest dumbells through the windows. We loaded up an olympic bar with 5 plates on each side, each grabbed an end, lifted it up, carried it to the front window of the gym and, screaming "POOFTAAHHHS!!!" hurled it through the front window, and it fell 2 stories and landed on the sidewalk with a thunderous crash not heard in London since German V-2 rockets struck the city during World War 2.
We then sat down, lit up cigars, and opened the bottle of whiskey. All of the other gym members had fled the premises, and as the sound of police sirens grew near, Nobby and I decided to head elsewhere to train, and stormed off. I would have gladly stayed to explain the situation to the officers, but was concerned that Nobby, not long out of Britain's toughest maximum security prison after an 8-year stretch, might encounter some legal problems due to false accusations.
What is the problem here, brothers? Anyone else get treated so poorly at the gym?
The other day, I was informed by an employee at the gym I was training at that workout bags are not permitted on the gym floor, and must remain in the locker room. I hate being discriminated against due to my Herculean, chiselled physique.
I was training with my chauffeur and personal security advisor, Nobby, and had a dufflebag with all the essentials:
straps, belt, dipping belt, a Weider 'Arm Blaster', a jug of protein powder, a container of creatine, syringes, at least 10 amps of test cyp(Miro Depot), a bottle of anadrol, cheque drops, gloves, a pair of 'Depends' and a clean set of underwear (just in case while, doing squats, I shit myself), an entire roasted chicken to snack on between sets, a tub of potato salad for carbs, a bottle of whiskey I nurse throughout the day, a fistful of cigars, and a survival knife- nothing special really. Simply the basic accoutrements of a dedicated Iron Warrior. I carry the duffle bag with me about the gym.
Nobby and I set up shop at the squat rack and while doing a set of 600 pound arse-to-the floor squats, a nasal, annoyingly effiminate voice barked "Sorry, no gym bags fellows. You must keep it in the change area." I racked the weight, and turned to see a pencil-necked weasel of a man standing there with his arms folded, looking indignant. "And who, may I ask, would YOU be?" I asked.
"I am an employee of this gym. Floor manager, in fact." Nobby and I moved closer to him, and he saw the end was near. "Fookin floor wot?" Nobby snarled. "Well then, 'floor manager', I have something on the floor for you to 'manage'!" I sneered, and promptly spat a large, green snotter onto the floor. Nobby then seized the 'floor manager' and threw him, face down, onto the snot and I stood over him, screaming "HOW DOES THAT FEEL, YOU FUCKING BASTARD! NO BAGS EH? NOW SEE WHAT YOU MADE ME DO! ARRHHG FUCK KILL!"
Roaring with rage, Nobby and I put the boots to the man, and after breaking most of his ribs we trashed the gym- flipping over pieces of equipment, beating down any gym members who hadn't fled in terror, and throwing the heaviest dumbells through the windows. We loaded up an olympic bar with 5 plates on each side, each grabbed an end, lifted it up, carried it to the front window of the gym and, screaming "POOFTAAHHHS!!!" hurled it through the front window, and it fell 2 stories and landed on the sidewalk with a thunderous crash not heard in London since German V-2 rockets struck the city during World War 2.
We then sat down, lit up cigars, and opened the bottle of whiskey. All of the other gym members had fled the premises, and as the sound of police sirens grew near, Nobby and I decided to head elsewhere to train, and stormed off. I would have gladly stayed to explain the situation to the officers, but was concerned that Nobby, not long out of Britain's toughest maximum security prison after an 8-year stretch, might encounter some legal problems due to false accusations.
What is the problem here, brothers? Anyone else get treated so poorly at the gym?
. My question is, how come you and Nobby were smoking cigars and downing whiskey after 600lb squats?
