dark am i, yet lovely, a lily among thorns, majestic as stars in procession

dark am i, yet lovely, a lily among thorns, majestic as stars in procession
WHY DESTROY YOURSELF? WHY DIE BEFORE YOUR TIME? THE KEEPERS OF THE HOUSE TREMBLE. DESIRE IS NO LONGER STIRRED. DO NOT CONFORM ANY LONGER TO THE PATTERN OF THIS WORLD.

Sunday, 24 March 2013

Gone Yesterday (Part 2)


(Written 21 March 2013) As for Nasser El Sonbatty, well just recently Schmoe coined a phrase comparing bodybuilders and Christians. As Christians ask what would Jesus do whenever they are in a dilemma, so bodybuilders get into trouble, they can ask themselves, “What would Nasser El Sonbatty do?”

For example, you are considering doing the splits and shaking your ass a lot after some funky robotic movements in sparkly yellow posing trunks during your evening show routine to Troublemaker by Ollie Murs. It’s either that or some manly classical poses to Conquest of Paradise by Vangelis. You can’t make your mind up. Okay. So step back and ask yourselfwhat would Nasser El Sonbatty do? The answer should be straightforward.

Quite literally at some shows it’s one embarrassing thing after another. Many would argue that a fully grown buff geezer stood up on stage on the verge of throwing shapes in nowt but a g-string and tanning oil can be nothing else but. If you want a good laugh it comes highly recommended, especially for you ladies. We are forever perplexed by these new routines and movements, constantly exhorting, wow, I could never imagine Nasser El Sonbatty doing that.

Nasser was the standard of sense. There was never any mucking about with Nasser. He was a man’s man. When he took the steps onto that platform with the smoke billowing from behind him you made sure you were concentrating. The thrills and spills were over, no more pop songs, the disco dancing was done, because here was Nasser.

His Yugoslavian accent, big glasses and tight spandex training outfits might have brought him an element of ridicule if the guy wasn’t built like a battering ram. Gawd, he was huge was Nasser. Always one of the biggest cats on stage if not the biggest outright, in an era when monstrosities like Paul Dillet were flexing absurd amounts of quivering vein-streaked mass about. Thick, dense, blocky, and wide as a French door patio.

So just who was Nasser El Sonbatty, when he was here? The guy with the second best shoulders ever, that’s what.

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