Sunday, 1 January 2017


It was 2017. Zip Razweg zipped his laser rifle into the holster on his silver lycra bodysuit and floated down to the kitchen with his rocket boots at minimum power.

"If you've scorched the carpet again, you'll be sorry" said his wife, looking up from what she was doing, feeding nutro-pax into the transmogrifier. She pressed a button, and the machine made high pitched sprinkly noises and multicoloured panels of lights flashed pointlessly.

"Why don't you just use the stairs like everyone else? It's not like you couldn't do with the exercise."

Zip looked down at himself. The lycra stretched tight over his moobs and belly. He frowned thoughtfully. Then the transmogrifier buzzed and a slot opened in it's side, from which a tray emerged bearing a cornflake tablet and a tube of full english breakfast.

As a concession to his wife, he only ate half the tablet. He stepped into the health cubicle and pressed the weight lever.

"You weigh 4 stones and 7 pounds" said a metallic voice.

"4 stones and 7 pounds" Zip told his wife, pleased.

"We're on The Moon, you stupid sod" she replied. You're really a lardarse"


So what of me?

Well I've just weighed myself at 14 stones and 4 pounds.About the same as last year then.

I intend to avoid alcohol completely this year, although if I can get hold of some less calorific intoxicants, that might be nice. Might help with the music for one thing.

A few months ago, I got hold of a good sized chunk of resin. Unusual these days where it all seems to be green, but I always preferred solid. Less intense as a rule, and tends to go much further.

I found myself analysing what was happening, and found that it followed an entirely predictable sequence of phases. These are: Euphoria - Paranoia - Lethargy. There used to be a lot more euphoria. Now there's a lot more of the other two, and any attempt to increase the euphoria by upping the dose just makes the paranoia worse. So It's not something I'd want to do all the time any more.

1 comment:

Pete said...

Talking of hash, I, last week, went to a Hash House Harriers event. It was okay but I am naturally suspicious of any organisation with lots of weird customs. I will go again but maintain a wariness. It describes itself as a drinking club with a running problem. You can walk or do nothing if you like. Which brings us neatly back to the topic of weight.