It’s an us and them scenario: people who ‘enjoy’ the gym and the rest of us. I have joined and re-joined numerous times, usually when morbidly obese, in an attempt to psychologically fool myself into believing that walking on a treadmill for 90 seconds followed by ten minutes rowing in manic fashion and an hour in the jacuzzi will cleanse mind, body and soul, working my torso into a chiselled beacon of manly excellence.

Like inner city crack dealers, the posters tempt you with promises of ‘joining for free’. I get duped every time and am still to source a gym that has ever charged a membership fee. Arriving suitably attired in white socks, baggy shorts and a skintight Puma T-shirt seems to be the norm on the induction. By now it is too late. Having signed up for life with no time off for good behaviour, the initial session is the realisation that you have actually paid £80 per month to be publicly humiliated.

The inaugural work out is nerve-wracking: Whilst getting changed, a svelte estate agent smothers himself in talc standing two feet in front of you starkers as he blow dries his bouffant hair, leaving you feeling empty inside. He is then joined by a fellow public poser as they excitedly discuss an upcoming half marathon.

There is obstacle after obstacle. Do I take the lift or bowl down the stairs? Wait for the lift and you are frowned upon. Take the stairs and nine times out of 10 you walk straight into a perspiration drenched bodybuilder in a cotton tank top at armpit level.

Then you enter the sweatshop. The only question running through your mind is which machine will I make less of a fool of myself on? I often plump for the running machine. After five minutes untangling the headphones and only managing to get Heart, I then, against my will, listen to Jamie Theakston’s inane drivel as I fool myself into believing this is too easy. I up the pace from 1km to 11km per hour. I am now running for the first time in five years. My feet slam the conveyor belt hard and I can’t get the You’ve Been Framed clips of people who hit the deck and fly off the treadmill out of my head.

After what seems an hour, but in reality is two minutes, I decide to showboat as my legs can no longer keep up with my body and I jump to spread-eagle the running machine. Mission semi complete, I then spend a few minutes purporting to untangle the headphones when in reality I am attempting to find the off button to stop the wretched thing.

I attempt the weights and soon find the bar that slips out and into the lightest one. The one realisation I have is just how bloody boring this is. It is seriously dull. Running in one spot or lifting a weight up and down (repeat) is as fulfilling as a visit to the garden centre.

I decide to race against the computer on the rowing machine. I choose the weakest opponent. It looks as if he has no legs. Or arms, come to that. The race leaves me sweating more than Mo Farah after being asked to say something mildly interesting. I still lose and wander off to the jacuzzi as a pretty woman enters, as all the guys breathe in and the temparature rises from overheating to imminent coronary.

The jacuzzi is the treat. It is pointless showering beforehand as the sweat will disappear in the bubbly mecca. It soon gets packed and a rotund man’s leg keeps inadvertently brushing against mine as his halitosis nearly takes me out above the waterline. Having had enough I then decide to brave the same naked blokes in the changing room. They are still there, dressed in shirt and tie but naked from the waist down, as you do while discussing fluctuations in the base rate.

I’ve tried, and failed. It’s not for me, but I have to at least make a tokenistic effort once a fortnight to justify the cost. I am going to concentrate on weekly football and regular bike rides. Heck, I might even start up a local riding club: Alas, no changing rooms are available, but if you join this week I am willing to overlook the joining fee and throw in some complimentary talc and a conversation with a semi naked estate agent as a starter, before the less than enjoyable main course…..