MY wife’s on a diet. I know this because she’s eating a lot of cake and chocolate.
Before she tucks into a Thorntons nut fudge and a slice of lemon cake she will say: “Eeh, I shouldn’t be doing this when I’m on a diet … but one isn’t going to do any harm.”
One won’t. But one a day may have an impact.
While my wife diets, I’m doing the Dry January challenge. No alcohol for the whole of January.
If enough people take up this challenge, the local pub industry should be brought to its knees by next Thursday. That is the aim, right?
It can’t be for health reasons. The liver is the only organ that can regenerate itself. To destroy it beyond repair takes the kind of dedication and commitment I, and my bank balance, could only ever dream of achieving.
Taking a month off will help no one, least of all the dying pub trade.
Moderation is the key. But then JanuModerationAry doesn’t sound sexy enough for the marketeers.
I’m doing the Dry January campaign out of boredom, just to see if I can. My wife, I found out to my surprise, is also doing Dry January. I only know this because she asked me to pour her a glass of port on Saturday night.
“Will that count against my Dry January campaign?” she asked.
“But I saw you drinking a glass of wine on Thursday,” I said.
“Yes,” she replied. “But it was only a small one.”
I poured her the port.
Booze and cake! Sounds like a Geordie Shore diet. Ha, as if?
Turns out there is one. The flatulent floozies on Geordie Shore are now in the health business.
Well, at least one of the characters (they can’t be real people can they?) is.
Vicky Pattison has released her own workout video having dropped 10 dress sizes in six months. While most would seek medical attention if they started shrinking at that rate, apparently it’s a cause for much admiration, if not celebration.
Last year the kebab-gorging Pattison was pictured in the papers looking like a spherical dough boulder in a boob tube.
Last week the “new-look” Pattison was pictured appearing almost ordinary.
The national press was agog with excitement. The 25-year-old now has the body of an, erm, 25-year-old.
The work-out DVD is called Vicky’s Seven Day Slim.
I was hoping it would have the same tag line as the Geordie Shore in Cancun series.
How much better would the DVD sound if it had been called Vicky’s Seven Day Slim - “On it ‘til we Vomit”?
The workout is, according to the blurb, “Based on the movements of various animals.” Presumably the other Geordie Shore housemates.
Her motivation for the diet is unclear, though I suspect the promise of a hefty percentage of the profits played no small part.
While I’ve no idea what the secret of Vicky’s Seven Day Slim is, I bet eating less , exercising more and employing the services of the country’s foremost airbrush practitioners feature heavily.
But to assume she is some kind of expert on slimming just because she’s not fat this week would be wrong.
It’s like a Charles Saatchi DVD on how to win your way to a woman’s heart. Why not? He hasn’t had his hands round a woman’s throat in months!
My wife, however, will, I wager, have her hands round a man’s throat by 6pm tonight. Mine, after she’s read this column ...