Okay, so I’m looking in the mirror now, ogling myself all over, and what an absolute pleasure it is too. I’ll start at the bottom and make it easier for you to take me in: First we start with the calves, and that’s what I call some prime British beef pork trotters right there. Look at ‘em! Like diamonds they are. Then we have my hams, ripped to death behind my quadriceps. Have you ever seen quads like these? Have you? Look at that teardrop, it looks like the teardrop of Zeus himself. Again, ripped to the core. No wonder they call me Quadzilla. Then we have my midsection, a spectacular six-pack if I do say so myself. It took me doing a thousand sit-ups a day to achieve that abdominal perfection. You must be jealous of me by now. Don’t worry, I don’t blame you at all. I’d be jealous myself, if I wasn’t already me. It’s wonderful being as big and as thick and as ripped as I am. I consult the mirror just to make sure at least five times a day. That’s when I’m not training or posing or eating chicken dinners, mind you! There’s hardly enough time in the day, I tell thee! It’s hard work being the biggest and the best. Everyone would be doing it if it was easy.
Ok, right, now, where were we? Shall we talk about my chest? Well, wow, what is there to say about my chest? Apart from the fact that it fills my entire breastbone like the fattest couple of sirloin steaks you have ever seen. Look at that split between my lower and upper pecs. Isn’t that really something? And what about those shoulders jutting out like mountain caps? How about them? Round and full and bulbous. Took me some hours of overhead pressing, I can tell you. Let me turn around for you… How’s that for a barndoor back, eh? Look at the detail between those muscles. You don’t have to mention my shredded glutes, coz no one gives a damn about a man’s arse. Admire those triceps as well, see how they flare away from the biceps? Finally, take in my haircut. Aren’t I fantastic? Aren't I supreme? Aren't I just the Biggest and The Best?