Am I Dead?
The short answer is no. Am I a fat, lazy sod? Yes. Yes I am. I’m afraid you, my faithful people, have been robbed of your five fat-based LOLs a day by the fact I am a lazy slob. But is the dream over? Has our hero piled on two stone of blubber in an epic eating binge not seen since some guy with a beard fed 5000 thousand people on just a McDonalds Filet-o-Fish and half a Hovis Best Of Both? Well actually progress is made. I’ve lost a stone on this little sojourn to health and happiness, and making people laugh doesn’t have any calorie content. Oh wait, Peter Kay, Seth Rogen, John Candy, Ricky Gervais. Maybe scratch that last bit.
Progress isn’t actually all it’s cracked up to be. For a start, when you’re my size a stone can come off of many places. Sadly with so many chins to my name, thinking my stomach would show a marked improvement from this motivational but somewhat negligible weight loss was ambitious to say the least. However the initially faulty but now apparently okay scales are the scales, so I figured I’d take the confidence where I could get it.
I’ve had some interesting food experiences since I left you, which I will carefully ration so that I have something to tell you each time I breeze into your life. Though at my size, I’m more breeze-block than breezing.
I kind of voluntarily derailed myself when going to Lancashire to visit some family a couple of weekends ago. If there is one thing that northern families love it’s a bit of grub. Usually accompanied by a lot of grub. With a glass of grub.
You see mealtime in a traditional northern household is akin to a sleepover at Gary Glitter’s crib in that in both cases your host will not take no for an answer. I’m going to take you on a mental journey now. Not mental as in Charlie Sheen but mental meaning brain. Close your eyes. Now you can’t read the rest of the paragraph you idiot, open them again and get a hold of yourself. Are we back? Splendid. Now imagine if you will that a trusted family member is cooking lunch, in this case bacon and sausages. How many would you like? A sausage and a rasher perhaps? Two bangers and a slither of the good stuff? Two of each if you’re feeling pretty haughty and naughty? Unsurprisingly your scribe plumped for the latter option and was met not with mild shock from a grandparent concerned for her fan-chub-ulous grandson’s wheelchair-bound future. But with an “are you sure? You won’t be eating until your tea you know!”
Now I’m not sure how most people’s meals work, but mine involve gaps in between. Though I have made myself a rather hefty man with my overeating over the years, this was down to greed more than a misunderstanding of the separation between meals. I mean there have been times where I would have welcomed the addition of more meals into the accepted traditions of mealtime. Imagine my childhood disappointment when I learnt that brunch was a substitute for, rather than another meal bridged between, lunch and dinner. It was like finding out God wasn’t real. The difference being that there isn’t two billion misguided people who still believe in brunch as a separate meal. Food addicts 1 Christianity 0.
So as I’ve been trying to point out in a very roundabout way, having two sausages and two pieces of bacon was obviously a ridiculously small amount. I was offered two more of each item. I was offered toast. I was half expecting a doctor to be called in order to check the possibility of my survival on a mere two sausages and two bacon slices. If African politicians had the same idea of starvation as my nan then that would be one of the world’s biggest problems solved. At least until the continent sunk into the sea after its people spent six months on a diet of sausages and bacon. They’d probably take the toast as well, greedy sods.
Well I’ve probably provoked enough complaints for one night. If you enjoyed this please comment. If you didn’t please feel free to comment as well, fury makes the world go round. Either way I’ll be back in the week to titillate/torment you all with more stories from my northern adventure and probably more horrible jibes at the less fortunate.