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Tuesday, 30 May 2017

In which I can see it all...

That's me, that is, Dear Reader, a beast of burden...

Not this week though, as am on hols from SOP House.

So why am I still such a fecking misery guts?
Am FAT. That's why.  Prob will die from a massive heart attack soon and be left on pavement outside Co op until a passing tractor comes along and scoops me up and removes me from the prying eyes of passers by. And, I bet I won't even swoon pavement-ward in an elegant manner, but crumple in a lardy flollop with me big pants showing.

Then, I won't even fit in one of those freezer drawers you get bunged in when you've snuffed it. I can see it now...

That Emilia Fox sort will front up to dissect me and the drawer will keep pinging shut having got stuck on me massive hips in the manner of a desk drawer with too many unpaid bills stuffed within.

'Stomach contents, Silent Witness sort?' enquires the one whose name I can never remember.

'Asda Smart Price Bran Flakes, four jam donuts (complete with bag), three rounds of cheese and pickle sangers, one of them measly bars with a healthy carob coating, six packets of smoky piggy crisps, a Mars bar (they're not as big as they used to be), four all butter croissants, a French stick, a Tandoori Mixed Gorilla, nineteen popadums, all sloshing about in three litres of Pinot Grigio,' reels off the sort.

'But wait, what's this little blue capsule? Orlistat. She must have been on a diet.'

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