My diet is back on track. I am now a stone lighter than I was at the beginning of the year. Given that I lost 12 of these 14 pounds in January this is perhaps not quite as impressive as it might have been. But at this slowing rate I should hit my ideal weight some time around my 109th birthday. I have a feeling that by then I might be as light as a jar full of dust. Death is at least good for something. Knowing my luck I will die as the world's fattest man and instead of being burnt up like I want, I will be stuffed and kept in the museum of stuffed freaks, destined to remain fat for the whole of eternity. And when the earth is about to die, they will place me in the same rocket as that 20th 11/9 bomber on his life support system and I will travel the Universe forever, the fattest man who has ever lived.
That will almost certainly happen.
But I am exercising again and eating healthily and it'd be great if I could lose another stone by Edinburgh. I know I tried and failed to do something similar this time last year, but at least I am not wining and dining 50 women this time round.
I was on the Andrew Collings show as usual this afternoon (though I am having the next four weeks off due to gigs and a short film I'm appearing in). Somehow Collings managed to steer the conversation round to having sex with horses. Last week he'd been going on about drinking a mixture of the blood, milk and urine of horses and now he moved things up a notch. I wondered aloud whether he had only got me on the show to sound me out to discover whether I had the same interest in equine abuses as him. It's as if he's thought to himself, "I'd like to go out drinking the bodily fluids of horses and then shagging them with that Richard Herring off of Fist of Fun, but how can I find out if he'd be interested in doing the same thing with me. I know, I will set up a pretend radio show on a made up station, get him to come on as a regular guest and then over a course of weeks try and steer the conversation round to horses and see how he reacts. If he doesn't like it then I can pretend I was only joking, but if he seemse interested then the horse mutilation and rape can begin. Yes, that is my plan."
It would be a big gamble for Collings, and could blow apart his carefully manufactured clean living image (he claims he doesn't even eat wheat, which would put you off the scent of him wanting to drink a horse blood/milk/urine cocktail), but sometimes we humans get these desires and care not about the consequences. I imagine that if his "having-sex-with-horses-whilst drinking-a-blood/milk/urine-cocktail-along-with-that-bloke-who-used-to-be-on-that-thing" fetish was discovered that he might lose his contract at Ebury Press writing charming and self-deprecating books about his youth. And I would expect his wife to leave him. But for Collings, I imagine, it is the risk that makes the plan all the more exciting.
I don't really have any other work commitments. I am just going to take a month off to give him time to cool off a little and think twice about his insane plan. Though I think he might be planning something similar with my (temporary) replacement, Robin Ince.
I worry that Ince will be so desperate to impress that he will go along with everything that Collings wants and maybe in the next week or so I will get a call saying my services are no longer required.
So if you don't hear me on the show again in June you will know that that is what has happened. It won't be because Ince is better than me, or because I have called my employer a horse-based fetishist on the world wide web. No.
