YOUR local council-run leisure centre is a hub of health and fitness facilities for a fraction of the cost of a private gym. It’s also an utter shithole you’re best avoiding. Here’s why.
The obligatory floater in the swimming pool
Surely little Johnny’s parents should have done something about him crapping in the shallow end? Apparently not. Now all your attention is focused on keeping a safe distance from this brown water mine. That’s when you’re not dodging the ‘human torpedo’ – the fanatical swimmer zooming up and down as if no one else is using the pool with a murderous look on his face.
Lockers that only take old pound coins
And that’s the ones which actually f**king work. Nervously pile your clothes on the grubby benches instead, then come back from your swim to find some wanker has stolen your wallet, phone and, weirdly, your shoes.
The shit exercise classes
The Zumba teacher has a shitty, tinny-sounding little CD player and looks about 12, the floor is surprisingly filthy, and BO fills the tiny room, Still, that’s what you get for three quid a session. You know you can do all this online now? Stop being a Luddite and sign up, if only because the instructors are all hot.
The adult f**king about on the water slide
Here comes the the loud dickhead adult in skintight trunks screaming ‘WHEEE!’ as he flies down the tube and bellyflops into the pool. He might be of the yob variety, so you can’t say anything because you don’t particularly want a fight over a brightly coloured fun activity for little kids.
The all-pervading stench of piss
In the changing rooms. In the gym. Probably at the reception desk. Most worryingly, in the crappy excuse for a jacuzzi and steam room. The odour of stale urine follows you like a nervous puppy. Are the toilets old and knackered, or are people actually pissing up the walls? You wouldn’t be surprised, looking at some of them.
The gym is full of fat f**kers thinking they look cool
Anyone seriously into fitness and bodybuilding will be in the nearest David Lloyd so you’ll be surrounded by middle-aged losers with beer guts exercising to avoid a coronary, with shorts that leave nothing to the imagination. The only upside is that your own out-of-shape bod will feel pretty damn buff.
