January Detox & Fat Birds


It's been a wee while since I've touched on this subject but given I've embarked on yet another much needed January detox I thought I might fleetingly return to it. Incidentally, this year I've decided to go a step further than the usual alcohol, coffee and tasty but artery thickening food ban; I'm binning the television for the month. Unfortunately, my aspiration that we spend more quality time as a family has been met with something of a wall of silence from the kids, except for the youngest who spiritedly pointed out that, "Monopoly doesn't bring families together Dad, it causes divorces." Not to worry, they'll come round.

Meanwhile, as I trudge through the month attempting to shrug off the pounds accumulated from too much good claret, Mrs Flashbang's world famous roast Sunday lunches and the occasional malt I only have to survey the scene around me in the office whenever enthusiasm is flagging.

Most girls around any office generally brighten up the scenery, are cheerful and well disposed. Very occasionally though, you come across one of the others who no more brightens your day than would a giant Zeppelin flying overhead at 100 feet. I think you know to whom I'm referring; you all know one.......... the fat delusional bird.


In fact, I was just having a chat in the little canteen area here with one of my colleagues who is something of a marathon runner when the FDB waddled in and overheard us talking about sit ups. Unbelievable; she started giving us unsolicited advice about the best way to do them, "so you don't hurt your back."

Do you know what love, there's another good way of not hurting your back. Don't carry so much excess weight that it's equivalent to spending your entire life giving a fireman's lift to a middleweight boxer. The closest she's ever come to actually doing a sit up was a few weeks ago at home. She was walking across the kitchen carrying a stack of syrup covered pancakes. She got a bit of a speed wobble when she couldn't decide whether to go to the fridge or the biscuit tin and slipped onto her back, sending the pancakes violently skywards. From her prone position she could see them stuck to the ceiling. She stretched her arms towards them but couldn't reach. 1 sit-up.

Have you noticed how really fat birds do that walk where they have to constantly shift weight to stop their shin bones shattering under the compressive force of several hundredweight of reconstituted chicken nuggets and to stop the chafing of their legs rubbing together and inadvertently starting a fire?

They also have to avoid man made fibres, as the build up of static charge ensuring their hair stands on end like a "Russian mental patient" and they shock anyone that comes within 20 feet of them. You can spot them coming, they look like they're trainee fire walkers, taking every step like it's agony.

Today though, it's her birthday and she's covered her PC monitor in tinsel, no doubt to act as a beacon to the other chubbies for the inevitable cake-fest later. I can see them moving in their seats already, nervous that they might miss out in the stampede to reach the first consignment of eclairs. Obviously, she's got a bag of grapes on her desk because, "I'm watching my weight." Yep, sure thing love. There's nothing Darwinian about any of this either. There always seem to be more of them, all wearing clothes two sizes too small. You know, the tight leggings and the cardigan with the big buttons because their fingers are too fat to undo normal ones. You'll see them at your local supermarket, shuffling along in herds, stocking up with cases of crisps and fizzy drinks to get them through the next 24 hours. Funny too, how they always seem to pick up a Mars Bar at the checkout just to see them accross the car park.

They're the ones who waddle along in herds until they get in close proximity to the iced bun shelves and start to perspire when they get a whiff of freshly baked bread. Ordinary shoppers and small children rush to the safety of the whole grain bread section as the tubbies develop a speed wobble, thundering toward the iced buns. You can see the manager twitching nervously as the man-made fibres they're wearing begin to smoke and he lifts his radio ready to shout on the tannoy, "heavy lifting gear to aisle 13," if they spin out of control. Mercifully, most of the time they make it and graze peacefully on eclairs, jaffa cakes and of course, the iced buns on discount.

Fat Bird on hearing the iced buns in ailse 13 are on special discount

Right now, our very own Big Bird is blathering on again. My God, she never shuts up does she.

"It's ok and fine to be you just the way you are... you're special," she's telling the other delusional tubby who has obviously waddled over there to do a recce for the eclairs.

No... you aren't special love. Realise that you aren't "pretty inside" you're a walking f--king barrage balloon, the only thing "pretty" inside you is "pretty f--king full"

Now shes banging on about how she loves gay men, "because I don't feel threatened and I can just be myself." Well, let me tell you something blimpo, listen up.

Gay men are the bitchiest men on the planet, and every time he looks at you all he's thinking is "thank god I bat for the other team, being out with this whale ups the odds of driving erstwhile hetero tigers into my embrace to escape your tainted breath, you corpulent human dustbin"

And no, clothes manufacturers sizes "aren't all over the place", you register on seismographs when you waddle and they only cater for "normal humans" so go to Millets and buy a marquee or something.


I applaud Jamie Olivers efforts to get the country cooking healthy meals again, but a deeper understanding of the modern psyche of females in this country would help him tailor his menu accordingly, its not a balanced diet these head in the clouds, hands in the bargain bucket, never had to work hard whales need; it's sustained and cruel abuse so they fear for their own safety. At least with that they'll stay indoors.  

Oh look, one of them is going over with some jaffa cakes, they'll last about 45 seconds but the rush just might cause a geological event and create a new seismic faultline through the South East. 


Have a great day!