I don't like going to gym. I go because I read all the scary statistics and I like having chocolate every now and again - so I run, and cycle and do circuit trading.  Also the resident geese wake me up at 5 am and there isn't much else to do that early in the morning when you know the avian neighbours won't let you go back to sleep. Also, as my dearly beloved ones are well aware, I am one of those annoyingly cheerful morning people - better to channel all that energy into exercise and to avoid bloodshed in the household that early as I seem to attract those who are decidedly not at their best at 6 am.

However, before I get mistaken for some bouncy, extatic gym bunny - I don't like sweating and I really don't like exercise, therefore to facilitate the process I have to put great music on my MP3 player. Music that speaks of great love, walking on sunshine and other joyful moments in life. Beautiful jazz. Happy classics and what is generally known as running music. Fantastic happy hormone-inducing stuff.

As I can rival any 2-year old in lack of attention span I have to change these playlists regularly to avoid boredom.  So this morning, in the middle of my workout I realise that Carmina Burana, Carl Orff's great masterpiece had slipped itself into my list of happy music. Now those of you who have heard it would know that it is not an endorphin-stimulating piece of music. It is beautiful... but decidedly fall more in the category of revenge music - a soundtrack for making plans that are slightly left of legal and moral.

So if you are suddenly confronted with all 8 minutes of it in the middle of the gym you realise that that the health club can indeed be an evil place. It also makes me think of Old Spice and crows but that is besides the point. So in the Old Spice aftershave smelling health club, the guy next to me suddenly looked like a deranged hairdresser from Nigel who could kill someone in the sauna. The bouncy blonde (who is always there) like a cunning, though benign con-artist out to get men and take all their money. The poor fat guy who always complain to all that he has gained 10 kg since joining the gym like a scheming mafia boss ready to kidnap people from the car park for ransom.

It was the most interesting workout I had in a long time. Have been googling revenge music all morning.