Prestwick is a shit hole, Milton Keynes with the charm sucked out. It’s grey. It’s wet. It’s the West of Scotland – it’s always wet.
Yes, I am still bitching about Prestwick. Problem?
Monday 12th May (Day 15)
By the time I’ve walked from the hotel to Monkton, Monkton to Prestwick (did I mention that it’s a shit hole?) and caught a train to Glasgow, almost 24 hours have passed since I last ate. Save for a packet of nuts and a well-deserved whisky upon reaching the hotel at 1am, I’ve not eaten since Spain.
Barca may have obliged me to claim two cheat days in a row, but the only thing my body’s been cheated of lately is nutrients. The last time I checked, air made a lousy muscle builder.
If I manage to get into shape this month, the miracle won’t be that it was achieved while eating McDonald’s – it’ll be that I managed it while leading a life as chaotic as mine.
Pure dead brilliant
By 1pm, I’m in McDonald’s Argyle Street making amends for the weekend. It’s been so long since I last ate that anything would taste divine – even a triple burger that should never be combined. It tastes pure dead brilliant, but.
5pm: One train ride later and The McWorkout’s Scottish tour sees me enter McDonald’s Princes Street, whereupon I almost crash into a pair of fat lesbians. Edinburgh, it’s good to be back.
Today is the Elwood show: I’ve already trialled my mate’s fiendish burger combination. Now my chicken wrap is set to be supplemented by a McDonald’s apple pie, which he’s been bigging up for weeks.
It turns out that apple pie is hot: stick yo dick in this bad boy and you’d wind up with third degree burns. I wisely decide to eat it instead.
It’s pretty tasty, as all things sweet and calorific tend to be, but then my teeth start hurting. Such sugar. Very ow.
Following a respectable 70-minute gym session, it’s back to the gainz station to re-up. I’m starving and exhausted, but a Chicken Legend Meal sets one of these things to rights. This will be my fourth burger of the day; no one can accuse me of not trying this week. I bite into my Chicken Legend and wait for that familiar fast food buzz to kick in.
Should I get hungry later, as I inevitably will, trudging back to McD’s will be a mission, so I decide to order a Grilled Chicken & Bacon Salad to go.
“I’ll see if we’ve got any salad boxes,” says the server. Standard.
It’s the first McDonald’s greenery I’ve ordered in a while. Salads aren’t just the healthiest thing on the menu – they’re also the priciest. No wonder nae cunt eats them.
10pm: I bump into a mate I haven’t seen in a while. He has a penchant for rolling massive joints. I get massively stoned. A bunch of us blaze jeefs, trade chat and listen to tracks off the forthcoming Bang Dirty album. They sound amazing, and not just because I’m bare stoned. With a bit of luck, there might be a sneak preview appearing in the finale of The McWorkout on 29th May.
12:00am: I’m extremely blazed and am debating eating the rest of my Grilled Chicken & Bacon Salad. I’m also ready to drop, but still haven’t written up The McWorkout blog you’re currently reading. At least I hope you’re currently reading it otherwise these words are just notes on my phone and if you’re looking at them could I please have it back so I can publish my blog?
12:20: The drink comes out.
At some point in the evening, a conversation with MOG concludes with me agreeing to try a Scotch pie sandwiched between a Big Mac. They don’t call him Glasgow MOG for nothing. I christen this culinary atrocity the Big Mc.
Today I’ve drank, smoked, eaten two Jaffa cakes and verbally agreed to eat a Scotch pie in a Big Mac. What will the net result of this madness be?
We’ll get a better idea on Monday, when I publish my penultimate set of body stats. The McWorkout is now into its final fortnight. The end is nigh and my diet is sinful – will there be enough gym time for redemption?
^^ Yeah, I was really stoned when I wrote this.
I may be skint and exhausted, but make no mistake, today was a good day.
Monday 12th May
Total spent: £17.42
Total calories consumed: 2,800
Total calories burned: 549
Tuesday 13th May (Day 16)
Today is E’s fifth birthday. It’s also Filet-O-Fish day.
1pm: I sit in McDonald’s Union Street, dipping my chips in strawberry shake at my mate’s recommendation. I have no money as usual, so this is the closest I can get to Hacking My Mac.
At the next table, a group of teenage boys debate buying 1,000 twitter followers for a pound. I look around the restaurant at the ham planets, neds, convicts and sex offenders and vow that if I were ever to lay waste to humanity, McDonald’s Union Street is where my Bateman rampage would begin. It’s also where it would finish.
Bowling for shoes
“I’ll get two more goes and then you’ll get one go.”
It’s six o’clock and I’m bowling with my newly-crowned five-year-old. The rules of the game are vague, but they seem to involve E hurling the bulk of the balls save for the occasional pity shot that she graciously grants me.
I never did like bowling anyway. One of my biggest bugbears with modern culture is its outlawing of the term ‘faggot’. Outside of /b/, the word has become synonymous with gay-bashing, rather than its true definition: to describe a man clad in bowling shoes.
20:40pm: Despite not having made it to the gym today, I’m shattered. On the plus side, I’m home for the first time in four days and back at my local McD’s.
9pm: I don’t even know this girl and she doesn’t know The McWorkout but I’m still staring at a Snapchat of her McDonald’s. I’m probably not one to speak, having tweeted every McDonald’s morsel I’ve consumed this month, but using Maccy Deez to induce plate envy in others? Is this even a thing?
Tuesday 13th May
Total spent: £9.15
Total calories consumed: 2,560
Total calories burned: 0
Wednesday 14th May (Day 17)
6:40am: While eating my Bacon & Egg McMuffin meal, I download The McWorkout playlist that Werd has specially devised. It’s good – better than good – in fact it’s too good not to share, which is why I’m sharing it. 45 minutes of upbeat Scottish hip-hop for you workout or eat burgers to.
I publish my Barcelona blog, taking heed of a comment that shortly appears on it:
Our man is right, and it’s something I’ve started to address in the last couple of days. At the start of The McWorkout, my biggest concern was keeping my body fat down; now my priorities have shifted to increasing muscle, and to hell with the body fat stats. I’m desperate to have something, no matter how small, to show for my month of toil. There’s still time to make gains, but it’s rapidly running out.
14:00: I still can’t tell whether it’s the exercise, the McD’s or a combination thereof that’s making me so exhausted. Following a two-hour sleep, I sink my teeth into a Texas BBQ, the latest in McDonald’s Great Tastes of America series. It’s so Texan that upon finishing it, I attack a lesbian couple and launch an anti-abortion bill. With 56% of my RDA salt, the Texas BBQ is a hate crime in a bun.
Despite encapsulating five very different states, in a blind taste test you’d struggle to tell the difference between any of McD’s Americlap burgers. Still, at least the presentation is spot on.
I chase the sodium down with a chocolate shake, the sugar in one counteracting the salt in the other.
4pm: There’s nothing more shameful than paying for a fiver’s fuel at the garage. I would have paid at the pump, but I know without even checking that my account will be overdrawn. The trickle of diesel isn’t even enough to extinguish the fuel light.
I have £4.15 to cover dinner and tomorrow’s breakfast. Back to the Saver Menu it is.
19:00: While my girls tuck into pizza at their mum’s, I discreetly attempt to nip out to McDonald’s.
“Where are you going?” asks K.
When you’ve begun lying to your kids about your McDonald’s habit, it’s probably time to face facts: you’re an addict.
Officially, The McWorkout ends on 25th May, but what if I can’t stop? What if I become hooked on McDonald’s, the exercise slows down and I turn into a ham beast?
Oh the irony.
10:00pm: Finishing my article on the world’s spookiest cemeteries took longer than expected, but at least I make it to the gym, stopping to grab a Peri Peri Snack Wrap en route.
In addition to plying me with joints, my mate kindly lent me a tenner to fuel my car and my gains. For the second time in a day, I find myself handing over a five-pound note in a fuel station. Poverty intensifies.
As The McWorkout’s progressed, I’ve started to really enjoy my gym time, but not tonight. Tonight I have to force myself through the turnstiles at PureGym. Tonight I am physically exhausted and mentally drained.
Every guy is in better shape than me, has better hair or has a qt 3.14 gf in tow. I turn up Werd’s McWorkout playlist and get to work on my triceps and shoulders.
Before I know it, an hour is up, my time is served and I’m free to go. Not my best workout of the week, but at least I made it. At least I made it.
Wednesday 14th May
Total spent: £17.82
Total calories consumed: 2,795
Total calories burned: 373
Thursday 15th May (Day 18)
I’m not sure what’s been the biggest enemy during The McWorkout: lack of time, lack of money or lack of energy.
Maths was never my strongpoint, but there’s a formula in there somewhere linking the three. Poverty is compelling me to eat the cheapest items on the McDonald’s menu. This in turn is causing energy spikes followed by slumps that sap my ability to stay alert and concentrate on work. Inability to focus is curtailing the amount of time I spend working each day, reducing my income and forcing me to eat the cheapest items on the McD’s menu. And thus the circle of despair is complete.
Next month, when I’m training just as hard but eating healthy, I’ll be intrigued to see whether my energy levels pick up, or whether I’ll be destined to require a 2pm nap every day for the rest of my life. I like sleeping, but right now I really don’t have time for that shit.
Thursday morning’s working and working out slot is claimed by primary 4 swimming lessons, but I’m not complaining. It’s nice to be able to spend time with K and her classmates, noting the Minecraft channels they urge me to check out on YouTube and promising to be better educated on their hobbies by the following week.
“My dad goes to the same gym as you,” says one of the girls. “He goes for an hour in the morning and then an hour again at night.”
Is he big and muscly?
“Yeah, he’s really strong.”
‘Sake. I’m not even the fittest dad in P4.
By 2pm, my old enemies – lack of energy and lack of money – are taking their toll once more. With 3p in my pocket, I’m forced to take a 150 cal cheat snack – the last tin of tuna in my cupboard with some mayo and chilli sauce.
I can’t even afford to buy a coffee and sit in McDonald’s to use the wifi. I pop into my mate’s flat to water the plants while he’s on holiday and find 96p in a money tin. That’ll be getting borrowed then. Combined with the 3p in my pocket, I’ve just enough for a Mayo Chicken. Let the good times roll.
7pm: I finally make it to the gym but have only 35 minutes before I need to pick up E, who’s staying the night. I throw in some supersets to up the intensity, but an excess of gym bros and a paucity of time constrain my back and biceps workout.
9pm: Still no fuel in my car, still no money, still no means of eating McDonald’s. E is staying the night, but with no sustenance of note in my cupboard, I’m forced to take her evening snack from her mum’s plus a couple of slices of bread for her breakfast.
As for me, I take two of the three remaining tins in my kitchen and lob them in a saucepan with some soy sauce. Despite my poverty, I’ve still managed to eat McDonald’s three times today; it’s not the cheat meal I’m sorry for – it’s my life.
Thursday 15th May
Total spent: £4.97
Total calories consumed: 2,240 (inc 670 ‘other’)
Total calories burned: 160
On Monday we’ll have:
Penultimate weight and body stats
Dr Chris Fenn
All those other features that are still overdue (perhaps)
18 days done. 10 to go.
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