Behold another reflective nonsense post. All these reflective photos have been compressed for the sake of site load speed, but it hasn’t diminished the palpable pretentiousness I hope.

Taken around Chiswick on the way to the gym. Can you believe I’ve fallen out with the people at the gym because they refuse to give me a bag they promised when I signed up.

I wouldn’t mind normally, but I pass the bag on display every time I go past reception. It says “you can get a free bag on sign up”. They said the offer started after I joined.

I called them liars to their face.

You see what I’ve become.

The reptilian side of my brain is not robust enough to maladapt to the woes of modern society.

It still wants me to believe that the inhumanity of nor being gifted a free Virgin Rucksack is parallel in scope to that of me coming back to my cave and finding a sabre tooth tiger has mauled my entire family.

“Oh no you need to talk to the sales team about your bag, and the sales team are never here.”

“Can I not just have that one on display?”

“Oh no that has weights in it.”

“I’ll take the weights out.”

“Who told you you’d get a free bag?”

“Baja.” (I remembered her name because Willard White in Diamonds Are Forever says he’s got nothing going on in Baha).

“Baja left last month.”

“Well that’s inconvenient.” I say, sardonically.

“Tell you what, you can have one of the old bags. It’s grey is that ok?”


“I’ll give it to you as a gesture of goodwill.”

“Well it’s not goodwill, as it was promised to me when I signed up.”


“You’re not doing me a favour here. I want you to understand that.”

“What did you say your name was again?”

And so the saga goes on.

The gym in question is Virgin Active in Chiswick Business Park. I’d actually recommend it.

Although just don’t expect a bag or a fucking solution orientated conversation with any member of staff.

I’m posting these reflective nonsense pictures on Instagram. And Pinterest.


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