We caught up with Ocean Breeze from the British Warren of Yoga Bunnies, to ask her why she has controversially banned size 12 and above women from attending her yoga classes.
“It’s just not the image I want to project,”
Said the yoga teacher and Warren spokeswoman, standing on her head in her Laura Ashley kitchen and preparing a quinoa and wheatgrass salad with her feet.
“They reek of white bread and supermarket wine, and one of them was joking about needing a kebab on the way home, to recover from an hour of Bikram. When you do a lot of yoga and keep your body pure, you develop an acute sense of smell, and it’s off-putting to true yoga fans to have these sloths lumping themselves around in the studio,”
When asked if banning larger ladies from daylight classes was in any way prompted by personal prejudice, Ocean Breeze said:
“I am not thinking of myself here, but of all my lovely, tiny, slim yoga bunnies, who have long tolerated the presence of meat eaters, social smokers and dairy consumers. Only yesterday, in our Covent Garden studio (a beautiful space with great energy), a man attended our class, and his shirt fell over his face during the ‘Stork Bumming A Dead Penguin’ pose, and he didn’t even have a six-pack. We try not to judge, so we didn’t say anything. But during the ‘Downward Facing Dog’ pose, he broke wind with great force into the face of the size four vegan behind him, and it smelled of rotting Vindaloo. She’s still in a coma now, and her family are playing whale song 24/7 to wake her up.
“It can be dangerous to have these people in the studio with smaller yoga bunnies,”
Ms Breeze continued, while gracefully returning to a standing posture and staring at her perfect abs in the mirror for several minutes.
“In L.A. a woman with cellulite was attempting the tree pose for the first time, and fell over onto a skeletal yoga instructor, who’d been living off cherry pits and salt licks for the last twenty years, and killed her. That yoga sloth has blood on her hands,”
Understandably shaken and slightly de-yogafied by these recollections, Breeze leads me through to the living room of her airy Highgate apartment. We drink Rooibos tea, and she offers me a slice of carrot. The walls are tastefully decorated with a mish-mash of spiritual symbols from other cultures, including that blue dude from Ikea.
When asked if people of all shapes and sizes should even be allowed to practise yoga, even if they’re not stick thin, middle class, slightly arty gluten free vegans with a Buddha in their front room, she replied:
“Well, I suppose they could. But they should do it at home, or rent a working men’s club or something. Nobody wants to see disgusting, imperfect people standing on one leg. It’s obscene,”
Guest post by Ruby Tuesday.
The Beezly Street Gazette 
Could YOU Be A Commentator For The Daily Mail?
Reactionary tabloid spaff-rag the Daily Mail is one of the most widely read ‘newspapers’ in the world, despite the fact that most reasonable people wouldn’t line their budgie cage with it, in case their budgie suddenly started shouting “Immigrants! Coming over here, giving our house prices cancer!”
But the populist wingnut virtual chip-wrap has seen its notorious ‘comments’ section at the bottom of each article dwindle over the past couple of years, and is now appealing for fresh blood.
The rise of Twitter and other social media, mean it’s now easier than ever to type ignorant, judgemental horseshit about total strangers on the Internet. As a result, activity on the comment boards is at an all time low.
“We think the cold snap has probably killed off half of our commentators,” said the Mail’s only LGBT columnist Melanie Phillips. “They’re all old, mad and don’t have any friends or anything better to do. They’re the kind of people that wouldn’t let British Gas into the house to fix their boiler in case they stole their false teeth, so it’s not surprising the vile comments are dropping off a bit. I can imagine them all frozen solid in their beds, with the jar of crumbs that they’ve saved so that the birds don’t eat them, slowing going mouldy in their icy grip,”
“It’s a great way to harass people indirectly,” said the Devil via Ouija board. “The DM has got into trouble in the past for its pitchfork mentality towards innocent members of the public. Now they just get their readers to do it for them,”
The Daily Mail prides itself on the tolerance, pseudo-Christian values and open-mindedness of its readership, and is seeking semi-literate applicants with passion and flair.
Last year’s ‘Commenter Of The Year’ award went to Joan Bigot from Hull, with her magnificent “String’em up & make’em eat the key!” rant regarding teenagers performing lascivious acts for free drinks in an Ibiza nightclub. The Mail hopes there are more curtain-twitching dipshits that buy concrete garden mere cats from B&M, that are willing to put their snarky two pee into the overfilled, underpunctuated piss-pot of loathsome twattery that is the Daily Mail comments section.
It’s very easy to apply – all you have to do is scroll to the bottom of your favourite Daily Mail article (preferably one about Josie Cunningham’s tits) and write something that only a friendless fucking moron with absolutely nothing better to do would say.