Swedes? What a bunch of turnips
I've never been your man for jogging. Tried it. Didn't like it. I'm shy and dislike the idea of exercising in public.
To me, it's quite vulgar to display one's fear of death so blatantly.
Like cyclists, joggers never look happy. They don't even look neutral.
They look grim.
They are, by definition, struggling. It doesn't add to the aesthetic value of the streetscape.
But plenty of people swear by jogging.
The street at the end of my back garden positively pullulates with sweaty oafs, pounding hither and occasionally yon.
Now one learns that many female Swedish joggers prefer sweating along the pavements to sweating in the sack. Yup, a third of them prefer jogging to sex.
One hears a lot about Swedish women. But I'd no idea they were so perverse.
It's the menfolk that I feel sorry for.
How awful to learn that herring indoors (or in this case outdoors) has gone off her meatballs.