Spin me right round baby right round

Went to spinning class yesterday. Haven't been in a long time. This saturday class used to be led by this guy called Charles - a short, trim, tanned, big grin kinda guy. He was pretty good. Good disco beats, regular injection of motivational messages, big grin, encouraging eye contact and lots of nodding. But Most Important of All, he always tells you how many more minutes this gruelling uphill ride is going to be. He addes in little sprints here and there, sings along loudly to naff 80s cantopop.

But yesterday, it's this other guy Gary. He's also short, but not trim, not tanned, and has a facial expression which I think is supposed to be a smirk but looks more like he is wearing a condom that is too tight. Or something equally painful and somewhat embarrassing.

Anyway, it was the longest 75 minutes I've ever spent in that goddam gym. Judging by his taste in music, I would have guessed he is a public light goods vehicle driver who lines empty packets of Marlboro packets on his windscreen. The songs have no melody, just lots of irritating, loud, crackling boom boom boom boom. The riding routine was equally unbearable. Long long stretches of up up up, long long stretches of flat flat flat...

He tried to motivate, I think. He shouts "TWO! GAETO BA YIU YEAH!" and other incomprehensible phrases every now and then. Waves his overdeveloped arm in the air and goes "YOU EINETA ONE TWO! YEAH!" etc.