Don’t ever become a rich housewife | The Cloudfoot Diaries #45

Who doesn’t love a good rant to oppose the lifestyles of the bourgeoisie? Given our primal state is that of a ‘for or against’ attitude, and not one I recommend delving in to too often given its closed-mindedness, I’m going to break the rules and succumb to my instincts for the following few lines, entertaining you with excerpts of my observations of the upper class detritus known as the rich housewife.


Second on the list of Ghandi’s 7 social sins is ‘Wealth without Work’. Who embodies this principle better than the rich housewife, I ask you? Over the last four months, I have been apprenticing in a niche form of carpentry, primarily learning how to build bespoke wardrobes for rich, bored, unambitious women.

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Cloudfoot applies for the Fire Brigade | The Cloudfoot Diaries #44

Torn between the rogue lifestyle of insecure unemployment,  and the desire to eat in clean clothes, I decided to send off an application for a job – gasp – with the London Fire Service as their Fitness Advisor.


For those of you following my own training militancy, you get no points for guessing how I would train those fuckers and what they would end up looking like in 36 weeks of being succumbed to my sadistic methodology.

I filled out the form half-knowing that an institution wouldn’t hire a man with no address and  a derivative of cummulo-nimbus for a second name. Hence the slightly passionate, yet tongue-in-cheek tone.

Here’s what I sent them:

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Next day soreness and thoughts on Specificity | The Cloudfoot Diaries #43

domsDelayed Onset Muscle Soreness, DOMS or Domåge Frais as it has been recently termed by myself, is that feeling you get the next day after training – when you sit down, it hurts. When you stand up, it hurts. Doing anything, hurts. That’s what you get when you haven’t trained for a while, at all, or you’ve tried a new method that has shocked your muscle into a sore mess.

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Cloudfoot’s foot on BBC 1 | The Cloudfoot Diaries #42

This will make you laugh.
Earlier this week I received a call from a BBC 1 producer regarding slacklining.
These calls come in every so often, usually; you’re lying in bed with company or driving at high speeds, or even parking yourself on the toilet. Due to the distractive nature of your task whilst taking the call, miscommunication is a given.

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