|
TRAIN THE TRAINERS
A new "smart" running shoe from Adidas could revolutionise distance running and training. The company says it developed the "smart shoe", mating it with a computer chip to adapt its cushioning level to a runner's size and stride. A microprocessor in the arch of the shoe drives a tiny screw and cable system. It adjusts the heel cushion depending on the signals sent back by an electric sensor coupled to a magnet. It's powered by a battery that conserves power by adjusting the shoe while it is in the air during a runner's stride, avoiding resistance from the ground. The shoe is the result of a three-year secret project the German company developed at its US headquarters in Portland, Oregon. Erich Stamminger, global marketing director for Adidas, says, "This is the first intelligent shoe ever. It senses, understands and adapts."
Anti jogging
I refuse, with all the tenacity of George Bush seeing a psychiatrist, to start donning some loose-fitting, garish costume more appropriate for 'Tinky Winky', and run around housing estates, wobbling, in four different directions at once. Yeah. I can put on track shoes. It may involve bribing a couple of adults with learning difficulties to tie my shoelaces. But where am I going to get a sensible pair at 3.30am in the morning when the laxatives have already kicked in? (Who needs an alarm clock?)
My doctor has already advised me, 'against any sudden movements'. As long as I can still see my feet, he saw no harm in 'motionlessness' on my part, for as long as is needed. After all, the bloody things (my 'plates of meat') may trip me up at the 'last furlong', and I could end up, facedown, in a puddle, ridiculed by other 'sloths', in neighbouring bus queues. A whole new meaning to the phrase, "My feet are killing me."
Anyway. I have an 'anti jogging mechanism' on my portable CD player and that is enough to convince me, to stay at home keeping not a million miles from a 'cardio vascular support system' in the shape and litre size, of a good bottle of Shiraz. Unless, of course, I want to drag a 'crashcart' behind me, as I bumble around the block, like I have just borrowed the body of a Diplodocus with gravel up its arse. In that case, its probably a healthier option, to emotionally cement myself to the couch while watching the 'Discovery channel' with a family pack of Doritos, nestling, harmlessly, scattered about, my over nourished frame. For supper, I prefer a light sprinkling of 'betablockers' over my 'Cheerios' followed by clams and lashings of Dijon mustard for the purpose of making my breath melt the tyres off a car and with the ensuing conjunctivitis. My alternative to a hard game of squash with people I hate, would be, to listen to all my favourite Donovan protest songs, and curl up on the hearth-rug with a good 'Trollope'. (It's Ok. My wife would already be in bed.)
My doctor warned me. (Like he gives a sh*t at £40 an hour)
"Your life style is slowly killing you, Perry."
I said, while insisting on putting, my T shirt on 'frack to bunt'.
"Who's in a hurry?"
The Germans always want to invent something that is too technical. Why didn't they just stick to Velcro? It's better than to have to, hook, tie and button, and its great to clean your mauve velvet suit made by 'South Sea Bubble', that you got from a male boutique in the 70's, only to find, when you've washed it with a rolled up Kleenex in the pocket, and it spat out of the drum looking like it had terminal eczema.
What makes me madder than having a vasectomy at that point your wife runs off with a lesbian, is presently. we have 'training shoes' worn 24-7, by people more unfit and obese than I am? What's that all about? The other half of the population, in their teens, wear , for no other reason, than to put them on your furniture, or dawdle down to the 'Nash' to get their giro!
For crying out loud. If people are more interested in designer footwear than what I have to say then there is a definite lack of eyecontact and interpersonal skills more suited to individuals with the brains of a comatose mongoose.
What ever happened to the hit 'sporty' series 'Gladiators'? It was an action competition like 'Robowars' now, except the 'houserobots' have more brains. 'Gladiators' was a show of human Titans in wild conflict using inflatable weapons. The women were splendid specimens too, showing off their 'beetle bonnets' and using PMT effectively. I wasn't referring to 'you know what'. PMT stands for those well thought out and enlightening comments each had for the interviewer, or better known as "Post Moronic Trauma."
They all wore trainers and look how far it got them? On a thin plank 300feet up, getting bashed over the noggin with a large dildo, or something. What about 'Wolf'? He had the conversation of a paper cup and looking at his less noticeable leotard contours, quite a small willy.
It was set in arena with audiences found in 'Poundstretcher', that same day, before they got too engrossed in wielding their own combatic skill. That of humiliating small children in the beer and wine section and pushing pensioners aside in lottery machine queues. They would sit like baying wolves themselves, egging their favourite 'meathead' on.
Talk about endangering species. The competitors, in this mindless TV programme were all named after zoo animals, or a mythological creature. Any self-respecting carnivore of the animal kingdom would really get their hackles up at any comparison of steroid pumped human peons with the mentality of an intellectual cripple to their own majesty. What Bengal tiger is going to prance about Banham Zoo in a spandex suit with too much make up on, permed hair and over-crowned teeth? Just to impress the giraffes in the next enclosure, I suppose? Not.
Anyway.
It reminds me of that perfect chatshow clip, between Jonathan Ross and 'Wolf'.
The adlib timing in this interview with this odd shaped shit for brains was second to none.
Jonothan made some jibe at the bumpy lummux and all 'Wolf' could say was "We are going to have words, after the show."
Ross replies with his useful anti-aircraft chatter, using the shortest sentence in his own spoken history.
"I'll win."
I mean can somebody PLEASE email me and tell which feckin part they don't understand?
Rappers wear them so they can sprint away from petrol station robberies, or, to leave footprints on old people. For example. Do any of you grey headed old buggers remember Run DMC? An eighties rap trio that made a song called "My Adidas" (on the flipside of "Walk this way". I see you nodding off ..to sleep probably!) promoting the use of, how it is socially acceptable, to wear your 'trainers' without laces and have your tongue hanging out. People were speechless when this happened. Can you also remember 'Nash Bridges'? Don Johnson as 'Columbo's' alter ego nice cop/bad cop harbouring a wastrel of a father, shagging everything with a pulse, and wearing a Jeremy Beadle, host show, canary yellow jacket? Faded jeans, Hawaiian shirts, highlights and pointy Cuban heels? Don was married to Meg Ryan at the time. She turned out to be just as tasteless, on the Michael Parkinson show recently too. Making our lovable 'Parky' wishing he had tried harder at school and found a speech therapist.
No offence Michael! You come from Yorkshire and there is nothing wrong with that. Doesn't black pudding make you trump? Is that why you fidget so much in your chair? A 'Well done' for the new job. Don't quit while you are ahead will you? You were mumbling and forgetting the question when I was still at school. I'm forty seven. Jeepers. There you are every week in your Sunday best with hidden catheter "ser ser ser still, per per per pestering folk."
I know all of you bleeting out there. "I love old Parky. He is part of the institution."
Well, maybe his matron should keep him there more often."
Just think he looks in the mirror each morning and thinks. "Fuck the Oil of Ulay, I wished I'd taken better care of myself."
Love you really. I'm only taking the Michael.
Where was I?
Ok.
Who looks more cool?
Your right!
They all look like w*nkers in their training shoes 'off the road'. Just about as much use as 4x4's on the M25. Mountain bikes in the Fen flatlands and people who wear sunglasses in the Britwinter. It's not big and it's not clever.
And that hairy arsed, monkey faced, Liam Gallagher looks so stupid in 'trainers' and a orange hooded parka. Singing with a face like he's trying to have a dry pooh!
Noel's, alright though. I'd buy him a pint. As long, as I could sleep in one of his eyebrows instead of freezing, up me chuffer down the embankment.
Oasis?
It's a frickin' desert out there when those two gimpy gluesniffers attempt simulating the Beatles originality. John Lennon (r.i.p) losing his breakfast, sounds better that those jumped up, never come down, know nothing, skinny little toads.
(I hope that comment got a few more hits than they do!)
Although, I thought the albums 'Definitely maybe', 'Standing on the shoulders of giants' and 'What's the story' were all quite good though. The drummer is the best thing to come out of that band. I hope the pair don't ask him to beat it.
Readers. Have you ever wondered how in merry hell Roger Banister managed to run his 'four minute mile' in his ten bob, black plimsolls from the Coop, without 'go faster stripes', landing gear, and a full set of suspension, turbo, Vorsprung Tech NIKE???
I expect the above technology will enable our German 'runners' to get onto their 'sunbeds' much faster in Benidorm now? They always like to show off. Remember 'doodlebugs' during the blitz of 1944? They used this state of the art robotic high explosive homing device to drop on innocent London citizens. What is the best our wartime scientists could think of? The Anderson shelter. What's next? If the BNP get in, will the Klu Klux Klan get a free pair to really 'put it in the hood'?
These ridiculous overpriced fashion accessories, are just a gimmick, for people on benefit to afford, and think, they look good languishing at Gatport Airwick.
I mean, didn't shell suits make us look stupid for long enough? Those man made fibres that had 'flashes' across you, making the wearer look like an economy sized box of soap powder? Remember, how, when blokes wore them in the British warmer months, with all that nylon and wool lining? How, it made your balls stick to your legs like Superglue and your 'reverse cleavage' start to grow mushrooms? How, when you took them out of the tumble drier and touched one of your children at the same time, you became welded to the clothes horse??
"Intelligent shoes?"
Ok. As I said to you before. Having a pair of sensible shoes does not mean you are.
Look at Mother Theresa. She had very sensible shoes, but she refused her wages.
Hello!
People say, that you can tell just what a person is like, by their footwear. Well, in that case, what about, Mr Beckham and his affair with his PA? He may have scored well, but he was still 'offside'. You can bet his wife will give him a 'free kick' at any moment now. Having 'studs' on your feet doesn't make you one. Likewise, if you have to put your balls in other peoples nets, probably means that, David.. my son, you could be a transvestite, and next time you get 'suspended' maybe you should check her underwear first.
'Spartacus' wore sandals. Or, Captain Kirk Douglas. My ultimate hero actor.
Here is a competition for the 'brotherhood' of Fugitive.
Email me the answer: In what western film does Kirk Douglas do an amazing 'gun twirling' display?
First person in gets a free T shirt.
Not one of mine. Just one from Tesco. (Just Kidding.)
Tip for lovers of very silly 'training' shoes.
Next time you fork out £40 on 'light up trainers' for your demanding string of kids and then, find out you can't afford fireworks for November 5th because of this outrageous expense, then … do this….
Step one
Sit in a darkened room, ensuring all animals and old people are safely locked underneath the stairs, and put all the 'twinkly', light effect, and pretty 'naff pumps' into the washing machine.
Step two
Place chairs in a curious semicircle around the front of the washing machine. Charge £3 to passers' by. Turn out the light. Sit quietly and put the washing machine on a 'delicates' wash.
Presto! The light sensitive shoes will not only turn out very clean, instead of smelling like a vultures crutch, or have to adorn the windowsill for a week, next to the aspidistra, to 'de-fume'. To the contrary, they will provide 'light' entertainment and simulate, only, the very best Firework display. Saving the environment, and third degree burns to children with psychotic tendencies who can't stop playing with matches.
The result.
Ooooh's! And, Ahhh's! Until the 'spin cycle' ends. (People, will think it's a commercial when that happens.) Looking for the last vestiges of alcohol, your flurry of satisfied guests will go home contented and without a Roman candle in sight or smelling like a mass grave.
Health and safety warning: Fast and flashing lights, cause epileptic seizures. Do drugs first.
Follow firework instructions. Always 'light the blue touch-paper and retire'.
If not … go for voluntary redundancy.
|
