Is that his starter there on the bottom right? Three legs of chicken, a whole hape of sprouts, fifteen whole carrots (boiled/salted) and two dozen boiled potatoes. Again, that's just his starter. I was chatting to my mam the other day and she said that the nice thing about being slender is that if you feel like having three dinners and nine suppers with afters, you can just do it and not care.
Whereas, fat people - like Dave here, feel guilty as soon as they pick up their fork. They deliberate with themselves deep down inside, knowing they really shouldn't keep stuffing their faces, but they can't help shoveling the cakes and pies down their necks. Then they look at me and feel even worse.
'
That skinny cunt The Mowl can eat whatever the bastard likes, and he never puts on weight...his clothes seem to appear tailored....he can wear anything..'
Which is true, but sadly the ladies don't really go for fatties, not unless they're as pig-ugly as Dave/Frank's wife.
The mental head on her?
And you know that real women prefer a man who's svelte, a bit messy-headed, slightly askew, and very elegantly wasted, like me:
Definitely
NOT like this geriatric blimp:
