Fighting Weight

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I wear ‘skinny’ jeans, not because I am myself skinny (I am not) but because I am short and in standard fit jeans I have a disturbing tendency to look like Wimpy from the Popeye cartoons.  (And yes, I know what is going through your mind now – if, by chance you are old enough to know who Popeye is – and I’ve just looked it up.  J. Wellington Wimpy, the burger loving character in Popeye preceded the burger chain by three years, the latter being named after the former.  Wimpy, itself, preceded McDonald’s and it had those frankfurter sausages, scored and pulled into a circle with half a grilled tomato in the middle, that looked so enticing to an eight-year old, but surprisingly tasted exactly like any other cheap frankfurter – especially when washed down with a strawberry milkshake because nobody could afford the Ice Cream Float. Now, that’s made the whole thing worth reading hasn’t it?)  When I was skinny, being short (five seven since you ask which, when converted into metric is something like seventeen kilometres according to my calculator which has, I admit, got a couple of keys missing and a little line across the LCD which allows the display to flow across the screen at will) was not so much of a problem.  My proportions were normal, I just looked as though I was standing a little bit further back.  Now, unless I am very careful, I have a tendency to look as though somebody has dropped something heavy on my head.

Anybody who is anything short of svelte will understand the problems associated with buying clothes in which to look and feel human.  The common conception is that this all matters much less as one gets older and I must admit that I find myself much more drawn to a baggy cardie these days, but only behind my own, firmly closed door.  I have shrunk in height by about an inch since I was thirty.  I do not know whether this is normal, but, unless my tape measures have got longer, it has definitely happened.  I am what the kindly amongst you may once have labelled ‘sturdy’ with, in the wrong clothes, a tendency towards ‘porky’.  I actually weigh less now than I have for much of my adult life.  I could weigh less, but for my age.  It is a sad fact of growing older that life removes many of your available weight divisions, leaving you, by the time you reach sixty, with only ‘fat’ and ‘gaunt’.  If you manage to get your bulk down to a reasonable ‘fighting weight’, then you inevitably develop wattles that would shame the average turkey.  I personally have a neck that is twenty years older than the rest of me.  The only way to get rid of it is to ‘flesh it out’ which involves me developing a whole new set of chins, and tits that stop me running without a surgical support of some kind.  Which is why I never wear ‘skinny’ tops…

Passing through Marks & Spencer the other day, I noticed that they sell ‘skinny’ jeans in a 40 inch waist size and I started to wonder just how tall you would have to be to meet with Trades Description regulations, but then I noticed that this girth is also available with a 29 inch inside leg and I couldn’t help but wonder, just who has been messing around with this language which I fondly thought I understood…

I Am Magneto Man

I am searching for space ships.

I have had my second dose of vaccine and I am now, by all accounts, magnetic.  I have seen the videos of people with magnetic arms – absolutely conclusive obviously – and I can’t wait to start attracting fridge magnets.  I have already noticed how easy it is to open the fridge door when there is beer in it.  I don’t eat meat, so I hope that I do not start attracting liver*: I have no desire to become an irresistible target for the lights of some unfortunate ex-creature.  I do eat spinach** but I have yet to find it flying across the kitchen towards my arm.

In fact, upon a second viewing, it would appear that my fear of being attacked by metallic objects is slightly erroneous: as a twice vaccinated person, it would appear that I am magnetic but, crucially, not a magnet: I remain deeply unattractive, yet strangely drawn towards all manner of hi-fi speakers and credit cards.  It would appear that I am now choc-full of computer chip and that is what is attracting the attention of all things magnetic.  Bill Gates, I am told, is hoping to monitor my movements 24/7.  I can only wish him luck.  If I do anything at all exciting, perhaps he would be good enough to wake me up and tell me about it.  As we are all aware, Mr Gates is actually responsible for all of the evil in the world and, therefore, it stands to reason that he is able to access the entire world’s stockpile of vaccine in order to place an invisible chip into every phial.  It is not far-fetched at all.  For a man who cannot get my laptop to update without crashing, it all seems perfectly feasible.

It also makes perfect sense for us all to be Bluetooth enabled – apparently if you check your phone after vaccination, you will appear on the list of available devices – as we can then all fail to connect to the matrix by which we are all being subsumed.  This is not such a big deal as – if we set aside the obvious fact that Covid does not actually exist but is merely a rumour spread about by the erstwhile Mr Gates in order to render all of the world’s arms available for chipping – we are all set to become 5G phone masts.  What we are actually catching is not a virus, but a phone signal***.  Every time that we cough, some poor, unfortunate tele-sales operative is cut off.  (There, that makes it all worthwhile, doesn’t it?)  Think of the brain-freeze that you experience from time to time as buffering and you will realise that 5G may not be all that it is cracked up to be.  Just in case you are tempted not to be convinced by the 5G theory, let me tell you that it is expounded by none other than the human fountain of truth that is David Icke and, well, I bet you feel a bit silly for not believing it now, don’t you?

It seems to me obvious that there is actually just one evil genius behind this entire pandemic and that is Stan Lee – rumoured to have died in 2018, but be honest, have any of you actually seen his body?  There can be little doubt that what he is trying to do to us through this false pandemic/vaccine regime is to create a planet full of magnetic beings with modified DNA, able to both transmit and receive messages and video (without adverts for an additional fee) to and from every other similarly modified living being, through the matrix of all things to which we have been joined.  (I am currently trying, not entirely successfully, to persuade my washing machine to undertake the laundry for me, simply through the power of thought, although it is currently refusing to pick up my pants if I have not put them in the basket.)  We have all become members of The Avengers and, with a planet full of magnets, we should not be surprised if we soon begin to attract all kinds of interplanetary craft.

I am ready for them…

*Offal is, apparently, incredibly high in iron.  I guess that also means that my own liver (the poor, beleaguered beast) is similarly high in the kind of metal that will ensure that it is desperate to be in intimate contact with my forearm – obviously full justification for the claim that Pfizer makes you ‘walk funny’.

** Similarly high in iron – although nothing explains why a three hundred weight sack of spinach reduces down to one teaspoonful of emerald mush plus a bathful of green water when cooked.  However, I have seen how Popeye attracts ships’ anchors after eating it so, you know…

***I have also just read, on a very reliable source (the internet) that the Spanish Flu was not actually responsible for the deaths of over 50 million people in the years following the First World War.  That extraordinary number of people did die, but they were actually killed by the vaccine which was developed by who-knows-who and despite the fact that nobody realised that they were attempting to treat a virus, which didn’t even exist!!  Let’s face it, it is entirely plausible that the entire global conflict was just a rumour, put about by a proto-Bill Gates, in order to cover up this entire, dastardly anti-vax farrago.  No wonder everyone was given a gas mask for the second lot: who knows what they might have tried to cure by then?

N.B.  Just in case anybody is in any doubt, THIS IS A SPOOF!  I have had both doses of my vaccine and I urge you to do the same.  The only change in me is that I feel happier that we may be moving towards an end to all of this and that the world may, one day, return to normal – although, if I’m honest, that entire concept is far more likely to be a figment of somebody’s imagination…