According to reports, weight loss jags can now boost protection against cancer. Sounds like a fabulous 2-for-1 offer, eh? Not when you’re my size, thanks very much. One jag with a needle and I’d be flying about the room like a burst balloon.
I wasn’t always this size – nope, I used to be 8lbs 6oz – and, mainly because all the Indian restaurants were closed, I actually lost a bit of beef during the pandemic. So, no sudden explosion when I got my Covid jags. One of my pals exploded at the mere THOUGHT of a Covid jag.
A founder member of the anti-vax brigade, I still recall his rant when he was starting a new job at the tail end of lockdown. “I won’t be wearing a mask!” he roared. “Nobody tells me what to do! I won’t be wearing a mask!” Halfway through his first shift, he was rushed by ambulance to the ICU at Wishaw General Hospital. When I went to visit him at night, all I could say was: “You know what, mate, I don’t think you were cut out to be a welder…”
Anyway, dear reader, I’m now two weeks into my diet – no red wine, no pasta, no bread, no chips, no big bags of KP dry roasted nuts… Why don’t you just shoot me?! In terms of progress, I wore a T-shirt yesterday that I hadn’t been able to squeeze into for quite some time. (Tell me, folks, did they ever free Nelson Mandela…?)
But I’ll tell you what I WON’T be wearing any time soon – the new range of Skechers (Hands Free Slip-Ins) that I clocked in a shop last week. Like a lot of, ahem, big-boned gentlemen, I’m a huge fan of Skechers. I mean, unlike lace-up shoes or trainers, how easy are they to wheech on and off?
However, I’d be too embarrassed to splash out on any footwear advertised as “designed to slip on hands-free” so you just “step in and
walk away”. Oh come on – why not just call them Skechers Lazy Fat B******s?
Talking of fashion, the famous Bucks Fizz short skirts (as revealed halfway through Making Your Mind Up in 1981) have been voted the Eurovision Song Contest’s most memorable outfits.
What about the straitjackets worn by all the roasters who watch this guff? With Mrs C in charge of the remote control in our house (sigh), I’ve got my Eurovision outfit all ready for Saturday night. It’s a rather fetching combo of earmuffs & matching blindfold.
Quite frankly, I’d sooner sit through a re-run of last week’s Coronation. No harm to Charles & Camilla, but it was DEADLY dull. At least with, say, Princess Di’s funeral we got that nice wee solo from Elton John. It was classical music all the way at Westminster Abbey and one of the most famous tunes made me wonder why Celtic fans were so anti-Coronation. You’d have loved it, Bhoys. Your first chance to hear Zadok The Priest in the spring.
Seriously, though, you can’t blame ANYONE who refused to watch the Coronation. At a time when our nation is swamped with food banks and underprivileged kids are going to bed cold and hungry, the whole thing apparently cost an eye-watering £100million. Wow! That’s a huge sum of money – nearly as much as Lionel Richie spent on his face.
PS. After that crack about Celtic and the Champions league theme tune, I’d better balance the books in these enlightened times with a cheap jibe about Rangers, so here goes… Does anyone know what referee Steven McLean did to fall foul of his SFA bosses? Well, I assume he’s been demoted as he’s in charge of this week’s Old Firm friendly at Ibrox.
PPS. It was announced last week that the world’s most famous chef has teamed up with the world’s most successful football club. So can I just say that I’d like to wish Rick Stein and Real Madrid all the very best.
