The Damaging Pace of Doing Nothing

You may have read somewhere about the potential injuries that violent exercise may precipitate (muscle strain, joint inflammation, broken bones, death etc). As far as I'm concerned anyone stupid enough to put their bodies through the wrack and mill of strenuous calisthenics deserves all they get, but there are those amongst us (ie doctors) who would have the whole country sweating buckets on a treadmill if they had their vile ways. I am here to offer a plea on behalf of the majority who eschew the way of prescribed health.
We too suffer in the pursuit of our chosen regimen. I haven't had a gig for over a week (a gig is my equivalent of a 10 mile dash) and now I find myself seriously out of condition - partly because of the lack of exercise but mainly due to the compensatory consumption of Staropramens, Gin and Tonics and sundry accompaniments that a gigless weekend demands. A minor sprain or tear will be healed in a matter of days or weeks and the athlete will be able to resume their chosen mode of torture thereonwards. My return to form is nowhere as certain.

Onwards and Sideways

Hello Peeples, The old gigging itinerary is beginning to fill up at its usual lagubrious pace. A few promises of something of the more exotic calibre otherwise I'm afraid that some of you will be seeing me again at the same locations. I hope you don't mind that too much. Stackers played at Birkenhead Arts Centre recently where we had the privilege of sharing a dressing room with a tram and a double-decker bus, this was a first for all of us well-seasoned troupers. It just goes to show that a new experience is always potentially around the corner no matter how much of life you have seen. Some of my Facebook friends have popped along to one or two gigs but they haven't made themselves known. Don't hesitate to introduce yourselves should you want to, it's always nice to put a live face to the profile.
Mutter