The Regime
I look unsightly.
I need to make fundamental changes to my life-style. In a consequence free world I would dine daily on duck, steak, cheese, bread, cream and wine. Flagons, hogsheads of wine. I would be drowning myself in a butt of Malmsey on a weekly basis. And quite often that is exactly what I do dine on. As a consequence I might refer you to Fig. A.
Note the quivering jowls, the fish-belly eye-bags, the mortal horror in the eyes, the forehead as scored and striped as the Nazca plain. The cobbler's -thumb of a nose. Note also I've taken the photo at a flattering angle and filtered it through handsomising monochrome. I don't even have the courage to face up to the full horror. I'm not a man who routinely inspects the contents of his handkerchief.
As of bank holiday Monday I am changing my lifestyle. I am entering what I call "The Regime". I shall be eschewing all of the foods that I crave and I shall be living off steamed vegetables, fish, brown rice and knocking the booze on the head. Happily this coincides with an interval of more than usual poverty, so its for the best in every particular.
I need to be thinner. I need to be fitter.
After all, the way politics is going I might need to start fighting other men over loaves of bread or the last onion in the shop so I better get into peak physical condition.
I'll be walking a lot more too.
Fuck you Translink. Fuck you Winemark. You'll both be seeing a lot less of me. As, I hope, will you all.
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| Fig. A |
I need to make fundamental changes to my life-style. In a consequence free world I would dine daily on duck, steak, cheese, bread, cream and wine. Flagons, hogsheads of wine. I would be drowning myself in a butt of Malmsey on a weekly basis. And quite often that is exactly what I do dine on. As a consequence I might refer you to Fig. A.
Note the quivering jowls, the fish-belly eye-bags, the mortal horror in the eyes, the forehead as scored and striped as the Nazca plain. The cobbler's -thumb of a nose. Note also I've taken the photo at a flattering angle and filtered it through handsomising monochrome. I don't even have the courage to face up to the full horror. I'm not a man who routinely inspects the contents of his handkerchief.
As of bank holiday Monday I am changing my lifestyle. I am entering what I call "The Regime". I shall be eschewing all of the foods that I crave and I shall be living off steamed vegetables, fish, brown rice and knocking the booze on the head. Happily this coincides with an interval of more than usual poverty, so its for the best in every particular.
I need to be thinner. I need to be fitter.
After all, the way politics is going I might need to start fighting other men over loaves of bread or the last onion in the shop so I better get into peak physical condition.
I'll be walking a lot more too.
Fuck you Translink. Fuck you Winemark. You'll both be seeing a lot less of me. As, I hope, will you all.
As it happened I haven't been walking much as it has pissed down every day and I've been busy pressing my arse into a chair. But when its summer - a week in September - I shall walk for miles and miles.
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