“Crikey you are a big lad Mr…what was your name…I had it on the tips of my tongues”

“Ivor Pancreas”

“I should hope you have…now your name please”

“That is my name…Ivor Pancreas”

“Oh I see…whatever, how can I be of assistance Mr Pancreas?”

“Well I understand you’re the new fitness from outer space…oh before I forget, I was just wondering exactly where in outer space did you come from?”

“From a galaxy faraway”

“Crumbs, ‘Fromagalaxyfaraway’ that’s a very long word”

“Worry not you wouldn’t know it anyway! So then may I call you Ivor, Ivor?”

“Rather you just called me Ivor as it happens”

“Do what? Whatever, what can I do for you today Ivor??”

“Well I’m all in a kerfuffle you see. It’s all about Petal”

“What’s ‘all about’? – hope it’s not catching and may I remind you my names not Petal…I’m Anita”

“No Petal is the beautiful girl I’m hoping to date yet she has told me in no uncertain terms that she only goes out with fit men and as you can see I am most definitely not ‘fit’. Basically I want you to get me so fit that I can beat Usain Bolt in the 100 metres sprint as I believe that that would seriously impress Petal…a big ask I know”

“Best we check your weight then Ivor, I’ve a set of scales over in the corner”

“I’m getting confused now…I’m Ivor, not ‘Ivor Ivor’!”

“Forget it Ivor just get undressed and stand on the scales”

“Should I remove my prosthetic leg as well and hop over to the scales?”

“For the best I think…we don’t want a misleading reading do we? Let’s see now 30 stone 8 pounds, that’s 194.137534 kilos. That is rather a lot for a man standing just…I’m guessing here 5 foot 2.78326 inches?”

“Spot on…suppose that makes me a helpless cause then?”

“Not necessarily Ivor…don’t overlook the fact that I am what you would call an alien from a galaxy far away…how did you lose your leg by the way?”

“Oh that…I cut it off with a chainsaw as part of a cunning plan I came up with to reduce my weight…lost nearly 4 stone if the truth be told…I was thinking of cutting off one of my arms next yet being ambidextrous I couldn’t decide on which one, you see I write with my right hand yet apply my Chalfont’s ointment with my left…a major quandary that’s been! Regardless I suppose you’re going to tell me to give up my beloved beef dripping sandwiches and copious quantities of lager and go hopping on a treadmill like all the others before you have advised?”

“Not at all Ivor. I’ve a plan formulating in my mind even as we speak”

“May I remind you yet again my name is just Ivor, not Ivor Ivor”

“Fuck me rigid”

“Pardon…am I hearing correctly?”

“Nothing Ivor…forget it. To the point then, when are you proposing to race Usain Bolt?”

“Oh that…this afternoon…it’s the only clear date in his diary…I’m meeting up with him at the White City Greyhound Stadium at 3pm…I know it’s a bit short notice…sorry about that”

“Best we get to down to business then Ivor…I think with a case like yours a Plutonian Cleavage Meld is the safest bet”

“Cor does that mean I get to put my face twixt your fantastic breasts while you do a swift Plutonian Cleavage Meld? I feel myself firming a little just thinking about it!”

“Sorry to disappoint you Ivor…quite the opposite in fact. You’ve got a manboob cleavage of some magnitude and it is I who must put my face in yours to effect said meld and just hope I don’t suffocate in the process”

“Bollocks…never mind, best we just get on with it then…it will work won’t it?”
“No worries Ivor…it will work…not saying you’ll lose any weight but I can assure you you’ll hop like the wind”


“How did it go Ivor…did you beat Usain and win the affections of Petal?”

“Not only did I beat Usain, I also recorded a world record time of just 1.2 seconds for the 100 metres”

“Why the sad face then?”

“The official from the Guinness Book of World Records said I cheated because I hopped so they awarded Usain first place…bastard!”

“And Petal?”

“Oh her, she just said ‘Piss off you big fat one-legged tosser’…bad day all round really”

“Best I lend you this handy laser saw I picked up on Uranus then”

“What, you’re telling me all this time I’ve been using a chainsaw I’ve had a laser saw up me….’

“May the God’s of Zorg give me strength”



  1. White City Greyhound Stadium – those were the days, when I . . . well, went to the dogs. Fabulous atmosphere; lose twenty quid then scoff a curry afterwards down the road at Shepherd’s Bush. London were London in them days. Now it’s full of fitness coaches and bloody hipsters. I fled the place yonks ago, as everyone ends up doing. Bad luck with Petal old bean, you were probably only thirty seconds away from total disinterest anyhow.

    1. A Richmond lad (before the Yuppies moved in) myself I also fled far away…Wimbledon was the last dog racing I attended enlivened somewhat by a gal on the steps who had lost a wager from a suited ‘gent’ who had placed a bet on her behalf…the snaps were in The Sun the next day (not that I read, or indeed read that right wing twaddle comic you’ll understand).

  2. when are you proposing to race Usain Bolt?

    My stomach hurts of laughter. Can you write a book titled this Mike, even if none of the contents reflects it in any way shape or form.

    1. Then one day you must (obviously not must) read my favourite nutter of all, namely ‘Jonny Catapult the Plumber the Artist’s All Trust.’ Killed him off a while back yet miss the bastard so very much! I don’t think from my research you’ve posted today? Maybe check in the AM…you should write more…you have the gift…showed Shirl and she (far funnier than I plus she can spell and is well read) agrees!

      1. Sounds interesting indeed. Yeah the writing thing. Everything I write seems to either want to be burnt or deleted after it is spilled. Give me a lead and ill write something 🙂

      2. Crikey I left the writing thing late but for me I write whatever comes into my head (literally)…leave for a bit…go back…tart it up a tad…get Shirl to give me the thumbs up (or not as the case may be) and correct my spelling (I can’t spell hardly at all)…that’s about it really. As to what to write about what about something topical, what with the 11th November coming up, say Trench Foot – that being the first thing that just entered my head!

    1. Cheers young Shehannemoore of Hamstershire. I have been dabbling with a few ideas in that regard…some silly name characters I rather liked like ‘Jonny Catapault the Plumber the Artists All Trust’ could have copyright issues in that each skit is built around internationally famous paintings by equally famous dead artists…not sure if I can legally use the pics of the paintings found on the net…Mona Lisa for example…a WIP presently!

      1. Wow. Love the concept. I just loved the insanity of the post and I thought this would be brill. I think if you look into images that are copyright free you might get one. ANyway, Mike there is just a thing as altering the light and kidding on you took it………………….. (Looks other way)

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