I've been big-boned all my life and no matter how hard I try, I simply cannot shift the pounds. I've started reading women's magazines in the hope that their pervasive and sinister message will somehow filter into my psyche and stop me from being so repulsive. If that doesn't work I might even have to consider reducing my vast daily intake of steak flavour McCoys, or even try to walk to the chip shop of an evening. Is it because of my genes?
According to my granny, before the Second World War there was no such thing as fat people, and the only available nourishment was the national anthem. While the British men were off fighting Rudolf Hitler, their wives were left behind with nothing to do but listen to the wireless and lick gravy off each other's stomachs. So when the American soldiers arrived at the end of the war, the British ladies were desperately bored and hungry and willing to do naughty things in exchange for calories. Soon traditional meals such as pease pudding and powdered cheese were replaced by good things like Kentucky Fried Chicken and Vienetta and by the time Robert Louis Stevenson invented the television in 1984, people were stuck to their sofas with ice cream all round their mouths and with a load of jelly in a bucket sat next to their toilets. But all that is starting to change now that Jamie Oliver wants to make everyone thin in time for the Olympics, starting with Opera Winfrey and one of those women from the television called Fern.
I know that Jamie doesn't have time to go to everyone's school but what I can tell you is that while McCoys are very god crisps they will make your genes much fatter. Try Wotsits and running around for no reason during playtime.
Hope that helps!