The Magic Shoes

I have a new pair of magic running shoes. I took them out last night and they ran for 45 minutes without a break. Given that my typical exercise schedule makes the London Zoo sloth look like it's in training for the Nike 10k, this is nothing short of miraculous.

I can only conclude, therefore, that the shoes are magic, like the red shoes that couldn't stop dancing. So if you see me madly running down the street, grabbing frantically at my ankles and hanging onto lampposts, reach for a stun gun.

Saw a great version of The Red Shoes down at the open air theatre in Cornwall a couple of years back. It was a bit mad, but in a good way. At one point, the shoes were on fishing lines, being waved about over the protagonist's head.