I’m hungover, today. Properly hungover. And when I get this hungover, I get very emotional. So far this morning, I’ve cried at a story about homeless AIDS beagles, and made myself giggle on a bus by making my coffee lid do a whistle. The last time I was this drunkover, I spent all morning writing a fan letter to Stephen Fry. He made a spelling mistake in his reply, which – in terms of ruining an image of perfection – was akin to changing a cherub’s nappy.
So, when I read in the Metro that Twiggy went off on one about the fats, I was outraged. She said that there was no excuse to be fat. Apart from the vaguely sickening idea that a former model whose name screams THIN is saying “STOP BEING FAT FOR FUCK’S SAKE I’M NOT FAT WHY ARE YOU SO FAT”, this is plainly bollocks. Here’s some great excuses and, even better, reasons to be fat;
TOP EXCUSES / REASONS FOR BEING FAT
- There was a pie stuck to the pasty you just ate, and you didn’t notice because looking at food isn’t eating food and eating food is what you do.
- You are an X-Man who draws power from the disbelief and disgust of those around you. In particular, you power-up when people getting onto a bus see you sprawled across two chairs, and involuntarily gasp in horror.
- “But Mr Taylor… the horse was so delicious I couldn’t just eat its head.”
- Fat people have an acutely developed sense of deliciousness. Sometimes it’s so well-developed that the fat person has to pause between mouthfuls to gasp at the overwhelming deliciousness of it all.
- Really fat people are stab-proof, and can put their hands on their hips and laugh at circus knife-throwers.
So hear ye, she cried – it’s OK to be voluptuous, which I think means you’ve got big tits and one of those arses that are good for giving piggy-backs, but if you cross the pie-scoffing Rubicon and scronf your way into obesity, Ms Twiggy will fucking have you. You don’t get a name like Twiggy without having a few special moves. Seriously, she can do that helicopter kick off Street Fighter. Here is a picture of Twiggy having a fight with Lulu.
Twiggy is the one on the right, cheeky!
Anyway, I can only guess that the Metro (the Daily Mail Urban for people who like their hatred a little less bludgeoning) is combining baffling celebrity soundbites with that sense of directionless motherly panic about the obesity timebomb. It’s a kind of panic top-up – you may have been worried about climate change recently, but don’t forget that you were fretting yourself gay over fat children in March. Literally, it’s a timebomb. Look what happens when a fat man is allowed to reach 45 years old.
The obesity timebomb, as fun as it sounds, is simply a way of saying “fat people die a bit earlier”. Which, in a world where geriatrics are piling up in gigantic mumbling heaps outside Post Offices, doesn’t seem so bad. My own extra weight is to compensate for my complete lack of pension arrangements. If I’m penniless when I get to sixty, the stress of living will cause a fatal heart attack. I can’t think of a more sensible way to go.
I can’t apologise enough for this, but I’m going to be desperately earnest. That’s why I told you about the emotional hangover, earlier. I was prepping you for an unaccustomed bout of sincerity. Fuck the obesity timebomb. Fuck heart disease, fuck unquantifiable raised probabilities of fucking whatever. Fuck Twiggy, who being a model at the beginning of the Swinging Fucking 60s, seems ill-equipped to moralise about excess. Fuck this sense that we should be desperately doing everything we can to make our lives longer – I’m not eagerly waiting for death, but having unsuccessfully given the kiss of life to a man I loved, I reckon the most savage sting’s already been delivered. Fuck the fact that whilst I can superficially rail against this sort of thing, the fuckers got inside me before I was clever enough to deal with it. I can smell you in my subconscious, and I don’t WANT YOU THERE. I hate the fact that you got in there first, and made me want to be thin. It’s cunts like you that have created a world where people have to look at themselves in a mirror and say “I am beautiful” until they believe it. Because YOU made them hate themselves in the fucking first place. I THINK I AM BLAMING TWIGGY FOR ALL THE UNHAPPINESS IN THE WORLD.
Having said that, though, fat people are funny. All like eaty and wobbles. Look! A food! Haha. Bet you looked. Fatty.