ng from the page that contained their picture to page three of the paper very fast, you could achieve an interesting doubling-up effect.

Once again, the spherical widow was presenting this as a shocking and tragic story, rather than viewing it as the rest of the world probably did, ie: “Obese Man Dies of Heart Attack. Nobody Surprised.”

It’s the same story everywhere you look. People peer over their bellies to see the paper and read about how fat everyone is, think it’s terrible and then go back to their fry-ups.

Now, I know that those of you who

According to screaming headlines everywhere, Britain (and, more noticeably, the U.S.) is in the grip of an obesity epidemic.

I’m not entirely sure how these poor people catch obesity, but from the looks of things, it’s transmitted by pizza.

This PTD (pizza transmitted disease) is steadily on the increase, and there are numerous fingers pointing to a lot of different causes. Lately, I’ve been thinking that there’s one that has been overlooked.

The reason that I keep seeing is similar to the reason there has been an “epidemic” of dead hedgehogs since the invention of the car. It’s a simple case of cause and effect. Incidentally, this is an example of a TTD (tyre-transmitted disease) but that’s irrelevant.

The reason I keep spotting for this epidemic is that either people are selectively deaf, or else people have some bizarre form of reverse anorexia where they don’t actually know they’re fat.

I’ll give you an example, just to set the ball rolling.

A while ago, I overheard a conversation between a friend of mine and a woman he knew who’s husband had just lost a friend to a heart attack at the age of 47. Whilst discussing this event, dejectedly, the following sentence cropped up: “He was a heavy smoker, he drank a lot, and he liked his food… *sigh* he got taken too young…”

Now, forgive me for being callous, but surely if you’re an overweight heavy smoker who drinks a lot, forty-seven is exactly the age you’d expect to live to?!

Not too long afterwards, there was an article in some rag paper or another that was desperately scrounging for news it could report in words of one syllable about a man who had died on his wedding night. They really missed an opportunity by not using the headline “Man Dead in Wed Bed”, but who am I to edit?

Anyway, the story featured, for those who couldn’t guess, a couple who had got married and then fulfilled the “til death do us part” end of things a lot faster than either party had really been banking on.

The thing that surprised me, once again, was that it wasn’t in the least surprising.

The couple in question were so fleshy and round that if you squinted and held the paper at arms length they began to resemble a rather obvious boob job. In fact, by flicking from the page that contained their picture to page three of the paper very fast, you could achieve an interesting doubling-up effect.

Once again, the spherical widow was presenting this as a shocking and tragic story, rather than viewing it as the rest of the world probably did, ie: “Obese Man Dies of Heart Attack. Nobody Surprised.”

It’s the same story everywhere you look. People peer over their bellies to see the paper and read about how fat everyone is, think it’s terrible and then go back to their fry-ups.

Now, I know that those of you who r

e the invention of the car. It’s a simple case of cause and effect. Incidentally, this is an example of a TTD (tyre-transmitted disease) but that’s irrelevant.

The reason I keep spotting for this epidemic is that either people are selectively deaf, or else people have some bizarre form of reverse anorexia where they don’t actually know they’re fat.

I’ll give you an example, just to set the ball rolling.

A while ago, I overheard a conversation between a friend of mine and a woman he knew who’s husband had just lost a friend to a heart attack at the age of 47. Whilst discussing this event, dejectedly, the following sentence cropped up: “He was a heavy smoker, he drank a lot, and he liked his food… *sigh* he got taken too young…”

Now, forgive me for being callous, but surely if you’re an overweight heavy smoker who drinks a lot, forty-seven is exactly the age you’d expect to live to?!

Not too long afterwards, there was an article in some rag paper or another that was desperately scrounging for news it could report in words of one syllable about a man who had died on his wedding night. They really missed an opportunity by not using the headline “Man Dead in Wed Bed”, but who am I to edit?

Anyway, the story featured, for those who couldn’t guess, a couple who had got married and then fulfilled the “til death do us part” end of things a lot faster than either party had really been banking on.

The thing that surprised me, once again, was that it wasn’t in the least surprising.

The couple in question were so fleshy and round that if you squinted and held the paper at arms length they began to resemble a rather obvious boob job. In fact, by flicking from the page that contained their picture to page three of the paper very fast, you could achieve an interesting doubling-up effect.

Once again, the spherical widow was presenting this as a shocking and tragic story, rather than viewing it as the rest of the world probably did, ie: “Obese Man Dies of Heart Attack. Nobody Surprised.”

It’s the same story everywhere you look. People peer over their bellies to see the paper and read about how fat everyone is, think it’s terrible and then go back to their fry-ups.

Now, I know that those of you who

age of 47. Whilst discussing this event, dejectedly, the following sentence cropped up: “He was a heavy smoker, he drank a lot, and he liked his food… *sigh* he got taken too young…”

Now, forgive me for being callous, but surely if you’re an overweight heavy smoker who drinks a lot, forty-seven is exactly the age you’d expect to live to?!

Not too long afterwards, there was an article in some rag paper or another that was desperately scrounging for news it could report in words of one syllable about a man who had died on his wedding night. They really missed an opportunity by not using the headline “Man Dead in Wed Bed”, but who am I to edit?

Anyway, the story featured, for those who couldn’t guess, a couple who had got married and then fulfilled the “til death do us part” end of things a lot faster than either party had really been banking on.

The thing that surprised me, once again, was that it wasn’t in the least surprising.

The couple in question were so fleshy and round that if you squinted and held the paper at arms length they began to resemble a rather obvious boob job. In fact, by flicking from the page that contained their picture to page three of the paper very fast, you could achieve an interesting doubling-up effect.

Once again, the spherical widow was presenting this as a shocking and tragic story, rather than viewing it as the rest of the world probably did, ie: “Obese Man Dies of Heart Attack. Nobody Surprised.”

It’s the same story everywhere you look. People peer over their bellies to see the paper and read about how fat everyone is, think it’s terrible and then go back to their fry-ups.

Now, I know that those of you who

ssed an opportunity by not using the headline “Man Dead in Wed Bed”, but who am I to edit?

Anyway, the story featured, for those who couldn’t guess, a couple who had got married and then fulfilled the “til death do us part” end of things a lot faster than either party had really been banking on.

The thing that surprised me, once again, was that it wasn’t in the least surprising.

The couple in question were so fleshy and round that if you squinted and held the paper at arms length they began to resemble a rather obvious boob job. In fact, by flicking from the page that contained their picture to page three of the paper very fast, you could achieve an interesting doubling-up effect.

Once again, the spherical widow was presenting this as a shocking and tragic story, rather than viewing it as the rest of the world probably did, ie: “Obese Man Dies of Heart Attack. Nobody Surprised.”

It’s the same story everywhere you look. People peer over their bellies to see the paper and read about how fat everyone is, think it’s terrible and then go back to their fry-ups.

Now, I know that those of you who

ng from the page that contained their picture to page three of the paper very fast, you could achieve an interesting doubling-up effect.

Once again, the spherical widow was presenting this as a shocking and tragic story, rather than viewing it as the rest of the world probably did, ie: “Obese Man Dies of Heart Attack. Nobody Surprised.”

It’s the same story everywhere you look. People peer over their bellies to see the paper and read about how fat everyone is, think it’s terrible and then go back to their fry-ups.

Now, I know that those of you who regularly read my stuff - and I’d like to take this opportunity to say hello to myself when I come back to correct a typo - will doubtless be expecting me to have some sort of solution to the problem, but this is one that leaves even me stumped.

The best I can come up with is that clear and present evidence does not work, so we need to be subtle. God knows I’m inexperienced with subtlety, but I have a few thoughts.

First and foremost, magazines need to stop telling us when celebrities are too thin. They should instead have a column where they point out members of the public who are too fat.

I don’t give a toss about how thin Nicole Ritchie is. If she has to pay to go to some clinic to put weight on, which she apparently does, then that’s her problem. She might spare a thought for the millions who are dying because they can’t afford food in the first place as she forks over (no pun intended) inordinate sums of cash to be fed up, but apparently she doesn’t find this thought as obscene as I do.

So, like I say, if the front cover of “Heat” says “Nicole Ritchie is down to 19lbs 4 oz”, I’m unlikely to care. However, if the front cover said “Lorry Driver Barry Jones from Huddersfield: You’re Too Fat!” with a picture of said individual, I’m inclined to buy the magazine out of sheer novelty value.

The second possibility is that we take a more direct route. It’s unlikely that the people in question will be reached by the pot-luck method of magazine articles. So - and I think this applies to all parts of life - we need to show some solidarity and stop being afraid to hurt peoples’ feelings.

If someone who is morbidly obese comes into the pub where you’re drinking and every patron, as one, launches into a hearty rendition of “Who ate all the pie?!” then I’m sure that they couldn’t help but be moved to action.

A similar thing should be done to anyone who drinks low-alcohol beer, although I’m not sure what the song should be, yet. If we continue taking our inspiration from football terraces, however, then in my area it’s likely to be “You’re Going Home in a Fucking Ambulance.”

As I say, I don’t have all the answers, I think this combination of editorial nous and public rudeness should at least set the ball and, i