If you’ve got a psychology book at home, take it out, throw it in the bin — it’s worthless. Psychology books, now, will have to be rewritten.

If you don’t want to throw them away then at the very least find the section on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs and rip it out, replacing it with my own, much better, Oktoberfest Hierarchy of Needs:

Maslow’s theory sought to understand human motivation based on needs.  Well I’ve got news for you all: everything you could ever want is at Oktoberfest.

If you’re on a diet though, you might want to stay away. 

I’m really not looking forward to this week’s weigh-in.  It was worth it though; the stag do was fantastic.

A few highlights: 

• Groom’s youngest brother — in charge of the kitty — at the bar (ordering for 19 of us): “Twenty-six beers, please.  Actually… better make it fifty-two.”
• Argument with groom’s other brother concerning Guns ‘N’ Roses.  He argued they were better than Bob Dylan and The Beatles.  I vehemently maintain they’re not.
• Being described by security as “the rowdiest table at Oktoberfest.”  This shouldn’t be anything to boast about, but when the festival welcomes 450,000 (mainly German) visitors a day, it’s hard not to feel a little bit proud.

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But anyway, you may notice the blog is different.  I moved.  It looks a bit rubbish at the moment, I accept.  But I will smarten it up, I promise.

Secondly, the supposed diet.  Not a good week so far this week, and it isn’t going to get much better.  As I pointed out in my last post, Monday and Tuesday were disastrous.  A curry one night followed by a carvery (or “eat as much roast dinner as you can” as I usually call it) didn’t suggest I was taking this weight loss thing seriously.  The curry was my girlfriend’s idea (admittedly I didn’t put up much of a fight) and the carvery was for my Dad’s birthday.  Wednesday and Thursday were better, food-wise, but then I ruined things by having a few pints at a pub quiz last night.  Quite brilliantly we thought we’d won the quiz, until we realised we hadn’t thought to hand the answer sheet in.

And tonight I am going to visit some old friends and do a bit of a pub crawl probably followed by a curry.  Tomorrow morning my mate says he’ll cook me a fried breakfast.  I’ll then go and play cricket (very little physical exertion if I’m honest) and, if we win, I’ll probably sink a couple of pints down the club after.  Sunday I’ll be good, I promise.

Someone suggested I go to Weight Watchers, and while I’m sure they do a great job, there’s a stigma attached in that my Mum used to go.  And that’s before I think of “Fat Fighters” from Little Britain, and Peter Kay’s “slimming world” routine.  Obviously I’m not discounting going to Weight Watchers completely, but it’s way down my list of “ways to lose weight” just behind doing my girlfriend’s Davina McCall fitness DVD.  With the living room curtains open.  In my pants.