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Personal trainer ‘just a bloke’

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James Moorhouse, chartered accountant, has come to the realisation that his Personal Trainer is just a man, rather like himself.


‘I’ve been going twice a week now for three years’, said Mr Moorhouse. ‘Everybody round here has a PT. He gets me lifting weights, running, doing a swishy thing with big ropes, stuff like that. Then I noticed a few people doing the very same exercises but without a PT. After last week’s session I sneaked back, while Guy – that’s my trainer – was busy telling an HR director to “do another five reps” and asked one of them how it works.


‘Apparently, you can just decide which exercises to do yourself! I know, it sounds . . . decadent. Wrong. I discussed it with my Cleaning Instructor – she supervises me while I clean my house, seventy quid very well spent – and she pulled a disapproving face, so maybe I should just stick with the PT.


‘It isn’t illegal, is it?’



14 seconds into tremendous dump, a massive spider appears

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Warning: this live report contains harrowing scenes which some might find discombobulating...



A man from Bracknell is in the early stages of what should be an epic and satisfying bowel transference event at home. In the last few seconds, however, a large spider has made its presence known.


Until this moment, Barry Trent's bathroom has been a porcelain temple of tranquillity and a safe space for enjoying the simple pleasures of natural bodily function. But now the unthinkable scenario has occurred mid-lay into two days' stock of backed up cable, forcing an involuntary early crimping.


Due to Barry's intense arachnophobia, the spider - roughly the size of a coaster - appears like it could easily juggle shampoo bottles. Under any other circumstance he would have bolted out of the door, screaming like a windmilling banshee. But this specific predicament is the stuff of his worst nightmares and he is instantly too petrified to initiate a flight response.


Evacuation is not an option. And neither is continuation to any satisfying conclusion. Had the encounter occurred in, say, the bedroom, then he would have shat himself, ironically. But now he is plagued by the horror of poopants, and never being able to return to his only toilet. He's going to have to finish this excretion in the garden in front of the neighbours, isn't he?


Oh God, it just moved. And it's coming his way. Not just poopants, poo everything. Unhelpfully, this report ends here because Barry has passed out.



Robber planning penultimate heist to evade justice


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Serial bank robber Danny ‘Fingers’ MacGregor is to carry out his penultimate bank job, a move described by police as “unsporting”.


‘As a police officer I live for final jobs’, DI Watkins told us. ‘Well, final jobs and doughnuts. With a blagger as careful as Fingers you only get one chance to nail him – his last job. The one he can retire on. Always make a mistake, see? Usually it’s a last-minute substitution because the wheelman has a dodgy tummy, sometimes they try to double cross Mr Big – doesn’t matter what it is, the gods are watching, and they know.


‘However, by planning his final two jobs but only carrying out the first, Fingers will miss all that bad luck. I had hoped to see him go down before I retired but this is my final week in the job. Hope it’s reasonably uneventful. For some reason the boss has partnered me with a psychopathic weirdo with a death wish, but I’m sure all will be well’.


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