The Apartments Strongest Man

As I was walking through the apartment carpark tonight, I was approached by the kind of man one might more often associate with a Harley Davidson.

"Hello there, young man," he said. Well he certainly knew how to get on my good side. "Feeling strong?"
For a second I wondered if he was running a 'test your strength' stall in our carpark, but then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Van. He was moving someone in. Bugger.

Heavy lifting is not, in fact, my strong point. I understand that when you look at my photographs you may think, 'now there's a hunky, husky man!' but the fact is I just know how to dress well. In truth a resemble a Snowman that has been giving 2 pipe-cleaners for arms.

But of course, when someone comes up to you and says, "feeling strong?" there's any one answer you can give...
"I reckon so. You want some help?" Who says 'Christian Charity' is dead, huh! No really. Who? I'd quite like to meet him.
"Well, I've got a big old TV I need to carry up the stairs." A TV for Ganesh's sake!! How hard could it be.
"Sure, why not." And I walked to the back of the Van to see what I'd just agreed too.

It was like a palette of Breeze blocks in TV form; 32 inches of pure lead. For someone who struggles to lift 25kg at the gym it felt like I felt like I completed my entire workout with every single step. We only had to climb one flight of stairs, but by the time we got the top, some several hours later, I was sweating like a Eskimo in Disneyworld.

Finally, I reached the room, put the TV down and shook the bikers hands. Or at least I tried to, but suddenly realised my arms didn't work anymore. I wished his step-daughter luck in her new flat and half walked, half fell back down the stairs to my flat, where I've spent most of the night collapsed on the couch trying to recover.

Christian Charity indeed. I knew there was a reason I'm an atheist.

Previous Posts
Entering the forbidden room