Fat: Part I...

Myself and the Missus are on diets. I have put on a stone in the space of a year and now weigh 14 stone 6 lbs. I wouldn't mind but it's not like I'm not exercising. It's a sad reality... but I'm now podgy for the first time in my life.

I obviously can't comment on how much weight the Missus has put on or what her exercise regime has consisted of (as that would be a spare room offence) but her weight gain is apparently my fault. For making her too happy.
'I was at my thinnest before we met and I was unhappy,' she laments. 'It's your fault. I'm too contented to care now...'

My suggestion of having an affair so she can find out and be unhappy again apparently was not helpful.

So we're now both dieting. I've never dieted before but apparently it involves eating more fruit and vegetables and less cake and chocolate and drinking less booze. It sounds a bit shit to be quite frank but I'm going to give it a go.

Otherwise I'll be a rotund, middle-aged fatty and nobody wants that look. Apart from Eric Pickles...