Monday, 25 January 2016


To celebrate the launch of this January's annual dieting attempt, I decided to gather a few of my portly comrades to pose with me for a 'before and after' photograph. The annual hope has returned - by April I'll be attractive ...


As it does every January, the corporate media juggernaut rampages through our post-Yule conscience and tells us to get thin. Our mid-winter guilt is pillaged to prepare us for their next profit-gathering feeding frenzy, Valentine's Day, where we must be David Beckham/Beyonce fit, shedding the free bonus blubber they donated to us via Ferrero Rocher, Mr. Kipling, Brandy Butter and all things KFC. But unlike Ronald MacDonald, we're not 'lovin' it'.
Slimming World will be signing on new members. Weight Watchers will be watching weight, and they'll keep watching it because it'll still be there when the next batch of wobbly suckers signs in next January.
I've never been slim for 60 years. My parents were bloaters, my brothers are cellulite strugglers. Yet all the experts who tell me about dieting are always thin people, people whose waistband has never fluctuated. They regard us with helpful, barely concealed disgust. And it's time for the publishing industry to hammer home the message; get thin or you'll wreck the NHS. So we've had them all; the Atkins Diet, the Hip and Thigh, the Commando Diet, Felicity Kendal's exercise DVD, countless Carol Vorderman-type 'detox' plans ... it goes on. This year? I'm trying the toughest, most complicated plan of them all; the SIRT diet. But if this doesn't work (Google it - it's too complex to outline here) then I am already researching my own diet plan. It's called the PPD - the Pork Pie Diet. Full details will be available in April, which will be the time my current diet has miserably failed. Publishers, be aware. The PPD could be your breakthrough seller for next January. 

No comments: