The Next Action Hero (the decline of the lad’s mag)
Posted by Jacko | Filed under Jacko: Author
I wrote this short story after discovering that Men’s Health had overtaken FHM, in terms of sales. Thinking of sending it off to Men’s Health, actually. Worth a shot. They’ll probably conclude that I’m a little bit weird. Anyway, enjoy.
*
It’s Sunday, therefore, I’m hungover. I have to make it through the day for no other reason, other than to survive. It’s likely that I’ll spend the next twelve hours watching television, whilst taking breaks for biological purposes, one for pleasure, and one for discharging the toxic kebab that is currently brutalising my digestive tract. The toilet will become my living Hell, and I’m going to need a magazine for those boring, painful, bloody times…Actually, I’ll probably need a magazine for both biological “necessities.”
I walk into the newsagents. Jimmy the shop owner doesn’t acknowledge me. He knows I’m in a bad place. He witnessed the same performance last week, and the week before, and the…you get the picture.
I fill my basket with junk food: Sugars, fats, e-number things, pig, gristle, Haribo, everything I need to make my waking moments more bearable. Something to read…
I scan the shelves…
Footy magazine – Sky was invented for a reason.
Film magazine – I’m hungover! I want to see shit blown up. I don’t want to read about it, or read an in-depth analysis of foreign crap with subtitles and subplots. Films with “sub” in them mean they’ll be critically acclaimed and borrrrrring…Unless they have submarines in them, blowing shit up.
Gaming magazine – Flashing lights and spinning screens bring forth nausea and the kebab from last night. Reading about them may trigger the same responses.
Porno – I look round the store. No-one I know, and, more importantly no old grannies who’ll tell me I’m going to Hell, again. Romancing the bone does give one the respite from even the most crippling of hangovers, even if it is for five minutes, five beautiful minutes….Nah, too much dexterity required to turn the pages. Internet will bring women, and for free.
Lad’s Mag – Pictures of pretty ladies; a few funny stories and jokes; bit about sport; few film and game reviews; cool articles. A little bit of everything in a neat little package. Sold.
I pick up the magazine and go to see Jimmy. No embarrassment this time after the controversial Older-Bolder-Bitches purchase, last week.
“Hang on,” say I, as something catches my peepers. Men’s Health, I mouth, silently. What’s that? I feel the flab around my stomach and realise that I have never linked the two words together. I scan through the featured articles, displayed, as proud as Pride, on the front of a six-pack.
“Fifteen Flat-Belly Powerfoods,” Is that a sentence?
“Seduce Any Woman-No Talking Required” Free Rohypnol could be useful.
“What works better: Sauna or Steam.” Why would I give a shit about that?
“Jimmy! What’s this all about?” I ask my local provider of magazines, cancer-inducing nutrition, mobile phone top-ups, £6 Bolivian vodka and scratchcards.
“New craze, mate. It’s overtaken FHM for popularity, now.”
“Shut up,” say I, as I flick through the pages of half-naked…MEN! “This is a sausage fest, pal. There ain’t a pair of jugs in sight.”
“There’s usually a bit of tit towards the end,” Jimmy informs me.
I flick through faster than I would the Littlewood’s catalogue when I’m desperately scanning for the lingerie section. Finally, I find flesh softer than the rest of the chiselled muscle that’s on show. I realise that I still haven’t found what I’m looking for. “This is rubbish. You can’t see owt as it’s all done shitely, you know, arty, like.” I read out the featured article’s title. “’Make Any Woman Orgasm In Five Minutes.’”
I look up, unaware of the audience. Strange, a middle-aged lady smiles coyly.
“Why would I give a shit about that?” I ask Jimmy as the woman storms out of the shop.
“Watch your language! Even you don’t spend enough on fags, booze and weird porn to warrant scaring away the other customers.”
I ignore him as I read a little more. “’Put an inch on your arms in six weeks.’” Six weeks of doing these…press-ups…sounds a lot of hard work, if you ask me.”
Jimmy sighs, “That’s why you look like you do, and that bloke in the mag looks like he does.”
“Yeah, but he spends all his time looking at himself in the mirror and sweating with other like-minded freaks. I’d prefer to watch action movies with heroes beating up bad-guys, bagging the birds and engaging in the blowing up of shit.”
“You ever thought that ’cos he looks like that, he isn’t watching it on his TV, he’s actually doing it.”
I once was blind but now I see.
“I can get biceps like these?” say I, as I hold up the magazine to show Jimmy a hunk brandishing an impressive set of guns.”
“Why not?”
“I can get these girls?” I ask, with hope in my heart, as I point at Jimmy’s stock of top-shelf publications.
“I guess so, especially the ones in Swinging Weekly.”
“With a mighty, manly physique, can I crush all my enemies with mighty, manly headlocks and then make love to their women, impressed with my manliness and my ability to make them orgasm within five minutes?”
“…erm…sure, why not?”
“How much for this knowledge? How much does it cost to learn the secrets of six-packs, biceps and the female reproductive system?”
“£4.”
“Shit the bed! Give us a copy of Razzle, instead.”
“Come on, now. You look terrible, you haven’t had a girlfriend in years and chances are high that you ain’t going to get another one.”
Jimmy’s right. I’ve been spiralling out of control since she left me. Booze, fags and fast food had taken its toll, and I had destroyed a body that once was…well, better than it is now.
“You’re right, Jimmy. You’re bloody right. But I ain’t doing this for me,” I throw over four pound coins. “I’m doing this for the women…you know, so I can do ’em.”
*
Yes! A picture of Thora Hird, two blogs running.
Tags: action hero, author, e numbers, FHM, Flex, Jacko, kebab, loaded, mark jackman, Men's Health, Muscle and Fitness, newsagent, older bolder bitches, Razzle, rohypnol, short, story, swinging weekly, Thora Hird, top shelf
