ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact

He told our reporters that he wanted to start going to the gym in January – but he didn’t want to seem like just another New Years Resolutioner.

So, this week, Glenn Beak-Ross decided to head to his local family-run gym to sign up.

Luckily for the 34-year-old corporate robot, there was an 8-week challenge starting the day after he signed up and the uncomfortably extroverted man on the gym’s front desk urged him to sign up for that too.

“So, I did,” he said.

The charmingly husky project manager caught up with our reporter this afternoon for a black coffee and a celery stick at a cafe opposite his generic Old City District office block.

“Anyway, the diet plan they give is pretty strict. I’ve kinda followed it. Not really but who’s watching me? This isn’t a Saw movie and I’m not in the habit of torturing myself,”

“They don’t give you cheat days, so I gave myself one because I’m not going to let some glorified human greyhound tell me what I can and cannot do.”

Today was not one of the restless Gemini’s rostered days in the trough – but plans can change.

“Some posh, faceless C-3PO-accent dickhead from accounts has been head-hunted by another firm so we threw him a farewell party with a Coles mud cake and the greatest platter of party foods I’ve seen in years,” he said.

“So I let my belt out a hole and sat down at the workbench. Two hours later, I’ve got heartburn like Mark David Chapman’s just called my name out as I’m walking into my New York apartment, and stomach cramps that’d wipe half the BeeGees out. What else do you want to know?”

Our reporter said he was right for now and Glenn got up with a dull moan and left the cafe.

More to come.