'Get it off, Lardbutt.......

Strolling along the seafront in glorious sunshine I passed a young mother; about 23, I guess.

And, boy, was she big – not just fat but huge, mountainous. I guess she got her knickers on prescription.

This reminded me of the health warning of the day (there’s one every day, often contradicting what has gone before). We are told that 5,000,000 die every year from being over-weight. We are told to get it off, to take more exercise blah, blah.

OK, there is undoubtedly an obesity problem mainly in the younger generation. It is a reasonable prediction that many will die before their parents in their 40’s or even late 30’s. The wowsers blame junk food, sugary drinks, chocolate and on and on. This is nonsense. There is only one cause of obesity and that is greed. They just eat too much.

This preoccupation with weight is very much a cultural thing. The Duchess of Windsor memorably said ‘You can never be too rich or too thin’. In the West, it is the young girl’s ambition to be 7 stone wringing wet. The ideal is to look like today’s fashion models who are built like laths on a diet of lettuce and coke. But in Africa a lady might be somewhat disconcerted by being told ‘Oh Madam! You are too mafuta (fat)’ because fatness is akin to prosperity and beauty.

This is where the cynic in me kicks in. Cui bono?

There is bound to be money involved, so who stands to gain from this story?

Well, for starters there’s the health food industry which, like organic food, is a ploy to separate the gullible from their money. The only thing it makes lighter is your wallet.

Then there’s the weight-loss industry. Weightwatchers is a hugely successful brand because its adherents always put the weight back on again until they wake up to the rather disagreeable fact that once on a diet you are on it for the rest of your life.

And most visible of all is the keep-fit industry.

I have always followed the precept that all my leisure activities can be taken in at least the sitting position. Yet everywhere you go these days you see some grey-haired old fool in shorts, singlet and Nikes jogging red-faced, sweating and in deep pain along the footpath, or encased in lycra pedalling furiously on a racing-bike, doing press-ups in the park or otherwise indulging in something silly and undignified. Worst of all are the cycling groups. Every Sunday morning we are presented with 20 buttocks and 40 pumping legs riding two-abreast and gesticulating and cursing if you try to pass. Last week I followed one such mob who were doing 40 m.p.h. downhill. When I slowed for the 30 m.p.h. limit they passed me!

Not forgetting the pharma industry that promises that you will lose 5 stone in a month without dieting, which is a bit worrying if you only weigh 7 stone.

Finally, there’s the ‘scientists’ and ‘researchers’ whose grants depend on writing the sort of garbage that claims 5 million deaths a year from obesity.

Now, where did I put the After Eights?