Fitness freak friend plagued by unimaginable darkness

A MAN obsessed with the gym, weight-lifting and fitness is only trying to keep away terrors you could not begin to imagine, it has emerged. 

Friends of 31-year-old Tom Booker are beginning to realise his intense 24-7 fitness routine is only his desperate attempt to silence the ceaseless screaming of the damned.

Friend Charlotte Phelps said: “Tom goes to the gym before work, on his lunch break, after work. If he’s not lifting weights he’s chugging a protein shake. But it isn’t a choice. He’s staving off a darkness none of us can comprehend.

“When he can’t exercise he’s a different person. You can almost hear the demons whisper to him. He mutters strange incantations under his breath, listing his PBs.

“In between workouts he talks about workouts. Change the subject and he gets this crazed, desperate look in his eyes, pleading you to ask about his warm-up routine.”

Colleague Ryan Whittaker agreed: “I once saw Tom at the end of a triathon. There was no joy or sense of achievement in his eyes. All it had done was temporarily quiet the tempest raging inside him.”

Booker was asked to comment, but was running frantically on a treadmill as if being chased by every devil in hell.

Mudlarking the number one Guardian activity for twats

DIGGING around in the foetid mud of the Thames among the accumulated rubbish of the past 200 years is a shit way to spend a Saturday, it has emerged. 

Guardian-reading Londoners, forever on the lookout for activities both free and educational, are digging out discarded ring-pulls and broken bottles from beneath congealed sewage and calling it fun.

Hannah Tomlinson, aged 38, said to hr daughter: “Your friend James from nursery found false teeth dating from the inter-war years, Ruby! Do you think we’ll be that lucky?

“It definitely isn’t demeaning, standing on the polluted shore of a busy waterway while tourist boats go past staring at us like we’re scavenging dung. They might think we’re bottom-feeders but we’re actually historians, aren’t we? Oh, another Prime bottle.”

Husband Kieran Tomlinson said: “This has to be the lowest yet. I wouldn’t do this for community service.

“Combing through shite in the vain hope of finding a broken clay pipe? Fellow mudlarks clapping in delight when one finds an 19th-century morphine bottle, but nobody cares when I unearth a 1978 Outer Spacers packet? It’s worse than wild swimming.”

A Guardian editor admitted: “Sometimes we print stuff just to see if we can make you do it.”