Feb 1, 2010 5
It’s never a good sign when the Chairman of your cricket club approaches you at a pre-season training session, arms outstretched, bellowing “I take it your training regime is fucked then” before grabbing hold of your man-boobs and giving them a comedy squeeze. Read the rest of this entry »
Jan 22, 2010 2
This is the moment you’ve barely given a second thought. It’s time to see the graph. But first, what does the graph show? What does it tell us? It’s tells us that I’m shit at dieting. I’ve lost a rounded-up pound since last Friday. By rounded-up pound I mean that the little ticket the Boots weight machine prints out says I’ve lost a pound, but a quick sense check (looking at the change in weight in kilos) shows I haven’t. I’ve lost 0.3kg. 0.66lbs. 300g. The equivalent weight of a packet of Chocolate Hob Nobs, ironically enough an entire packet of which I’ve eaten in the past two days. I know what you’re thinking. I’m a useless, disgusting, greedy bollocks. Read the rest of this entry »
Aug 18, 2009 2
In August 2008, after a week’s holiday followed by a huge stag weekend I was shocked and embarrassed to find myself weighing in at a colossal 18st 13lbs, or 120.5kg to be precise (per the weighing machine in Boots). As an aside it’s worth noting that I am, per the same Boots weighing machine, 6ft 4inches tall. I’m not making excuses or anything; I just didn’t want you to think I was 5 foot six inches tall and almost as wide.
