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Showing posts with label morbid obesity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label morbid obesity. Show all posts

Wednesday 31 March 2010

dreadful wind farm shock

What a terrible, terrible shock. Just as Geoffrey and I were tucking into our second round of double sausage and brown sauce sandwiches, and pouring ourselves another mugful of hot madeira, Razor Bill arrived with the day's post.
"Bad news, Tuppy old son," said Bill, sitting down heavily in our spare armchair, which promptly collapsed underneath him (and he's not even slightly obese - never mind morbidly, unlike myself - but that's another story). "Everyone's getting one of these." And he handed me a long brown envelope.
Inside, there was a letter, informing me that a "road" is to be built across the moors, in order to "service" the building of a "wind farm" on the cliffs.
"Well, there's plenty of wind round here. In more ways than one," I mused. "But I don't like the sound of this, at all."
"It's to do with green energy targets, Tuppy. You know the obesity targets Wilson keeps banging on about?"
"Don't remind me. We're all much too fat and lazy, and we've all to eat five veg. a day, not including red sauce, or we get sent to the hulks?"
"Yes. But this is much, much worse. It could mean the end of the Outcrop, as we know it."
"Oh no! Something must be done!"
"Yes. The Tupfinder's arranged a top-level meeting at the Towers, tonight, at the witching hour. Be there. Mrs T-G is doing sausage rolls."

Tuesday 1 December 2009

"plastic" surgery

Well, we escaped from the whirlpool - only to be sucked up by the Speedispend vortex and whisked off to the Hypermarket and compulsory health screening centre, where we were coldly informed that we are both "morbidly obese"!
After that riveting bit of info., which is hardly news to either of us, we were whisked up in the air again and dumped at the end of a very long checkout queue, behind a massive trolley-load of groceries which, we explained to the faceless customer service assistant, we have no means of paying for.
"Sign for Kashkard!" it intoned in a grating metallic voice, as it handed us both a form with print so tiny we could barely see it never mind read it. "Sign for Kashkard!"