PhotoGrAPhS: GettY imAGeS
danny
wallace
is a
man
But he’s still
learning some
of life’s hardest
lessons
Only in
ShortList
he problem, as i see
it,” says colin, opening
the crisps, “is that i’ve
been putting on weight for no
discernible reason whatsoever.
it is a mystery to me, and to
those who know me.”
he takes a sip of his pint.
“And it’s concerning, Dan.
Deeply concerning. i used to be
lithe. Do you remember when
i was lithe?”
colin has never been lithe.
i nod anyway.
“man, i was lithe. People
would look at me, and think,
‘Look at him – he’s lithe.’ But
now? i’ll be honest. it happens
not so much.”
“So what are you saying?”
“i’m saying i’ve decided to
do something. to act. to change
things before they change me.”
he offers me a crisp.
“i’m fine,” i say. “change
things how?”
colin suddenly looks very
proud indeed.
“i’ve joined a class.”
“A class? what kind of class?”
“A yoga class.”
“A yoga class?” i say,
genuinely confused. colin is
not the sort of man you’d
readily associate with exercise
of this kind. colin is not the
sort of man you’d associate
with exercise of any kind. “why
a yoga class?”
“i intend to release all
my energy blocks!” he says,
pointing his finger in the air to
make himself look important.
“it will make me supple and
toned. And lithe. it will make
me lithe once more!”
“But you always said classes
were for girls!”
“well, they’re for men,
now, as well. Lots of men
do it. in fact, my class is almost
exclusively men.”
“they do men-only yoga?”
“it is a gay men’s yoga class.”
“But… but you’re not gay.”
“i know this. But it’s
the closest one to my house
and also, i bet gay men are a
lot less judgemental about the
male physique than girls.”
t
inappropriate
office-based
conversations
You should be very wary
of people who come up to
you in the office or in the
canteen and say things like,
“Last night, when I got home
from work, I could feel tension
mounting,” because I bet
some of them have dogs
called Tension, and this
is their way of making it
all sound perfectly OK
and normal.
Freshly-mopped floors
did not pose a problem
for Billy
Putting yourself in
a difficult position
i am struggling to imagine
colin getting into the Lotus
position. But he is serious. he
is deadly serious. he intends to
become a Yogi.
“is there… a name for gay
men’s yoga?”
“i don’t know. Probably
‘goga’. i’ll find out when i
start. we have to begin to look
after ourselves, Dan. we’re in
our thirties now. we are very old
men indeed.”
he looks at me, solemnly,
and with what seems to be
real pity in his eyes. is it
because he sees in me the
man he used to be? the
man before self-reflection
and gay men’s yoga? is it
because i am unenlightened?
is it because… he has
changed?
“Shall we have another
quick pint?” he says. “And
then i’d better go, because it’s
curry night.”
No. it is not because he
has changed.
But as i trudge home
from the pub, i think about
Duncan The Robot
failed to grasp the
basics of high-fiving
colin’s decision. And then
i think about why i’m trudging.
when did i start trudging?
what has happened to my
youthful bounce? where is
the spring in my step? why
do i not feel supple, or lithe?
colin’s going to feel supple
and lithe – shouldn’t i?
Colin looks at me solemnly, with
pity in his eyes. Is it because he
sees in me the man he used to be?
But no, i tell myself. i am
just feeling a little worn down.
i’ve been on a book tour
recently, eating bad food,
stopping at motorway
services half-way home
from Norwich or milton
Keynes or Birmingham at
nearly midnight, buying
sausage rolls or cans of
cut-price Lilt. this is just a
phase, i tell myself. i’ll be back
to normal soon.
And then i realise that
the fine art of persuasion
I was standing in the
newsagent’s, behind
a man in glasses.
“Lottery ticket?”
said the man behind
the counter. “It’s the Euro
Millions draw tonight.”
The man in the glasses
hadn’t been expecting this.
“Oh,” he said. “Er…
how much is it?”
“46 million quid.”
being back to normal still
involves sausage rolls and
cans of cut-price Lilt.
when i get home, i sit down
at my computer.
i type ‘supple’ and ‘lithe’
into Google. Something deeply
unsuitable comes up. i blink
a couple of times but the
images stay in there. i think
i have seen what goga can
lead to.
i wander into the kitchen,
and make myself a cup of
tea. i’m oK, i think to myself.
i may not be supple. But
i’m supple-ish. i’m lithe-esque.
that’s oK, isn’t it?
i notice a crumb on
the kitchen floor, and
without thinking, i bend down
to pick it up. it is easy. ha.
take that, colin.
But on the way up,
something terrifying happens.
As i straighten, i hear myself
making a noise. A strange,
and yet strangely familiar
noise. A sound i have heard
my dad make. A kind of soft,
involuntary ‘aah’ sound. A
sound that signifies the end
of a short burst of unusual
exertion. the sound he
would make after picking
up a pencil or stacking a
garden chair.
A middle-aged sound.
i run to my computer and
i find a website.
‘Yoga for beginners.’
there’s a telephone number.
For a centre 100 metres from my
house. i try to find an excuse
– any excuse – not to dial. But
i can’t. Because i want to
feel lithe. And supple. Just
like colin!
i pause.
And then i pick up the phone.
to be continued…
“Right,” said the man.
“Um… ooh…”
There was a pause while
he considered it. Was it
worth it, for £46m? Did
he have a £48m cut-off?
Eventually, he spoke.
“Yeah, all right.”
I checked, but he
didn’t win.
I bet he’s kicking
himself now, the big idiot.
www.ShortLiSt.com / 23
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