The Demise!

Once a year I sit myself down on the sofa glued to the television. I feel I can afford myself the luxury as it is only once a year. The occasion? Why the Gymnastics World Championships.

If I had my way I would be in my Olga Corbet leotard - what, it still fits. I screw, into my Victorian ceiling, the supports for the parrallel bars and join in with the routines. I can Jaguer with the best you know - and no, that is not a reference to the Maroon 5 song 'Moves like Jagger'. Later on in the afternoon I completed an excellent routine on the Pummel Horse (side of the sofa) and completed the day with a triple pike half twist vault with a difficulty level of 7.2. Such a brilliant routine.

After that it's all downhill, I glue the sofa back together, sweep up the dust and debris from the half caved in ceiling and hoover up the shattered light bulbs from the vault.

Now, with the leotard discarded, I relax with what can only be considered the demise of my gymnastic career. I hold John Crabbie & Co soley responsible for the state of my once tight as a drum gymnastic body.