By Helen Archer, judgemental taxpayer and size eight
THEY are too fat and they are too lazy. Something has to be done. But before we waste Ozempic on them, what about trying my vicious, twisted ideas?
Because, if anyone had only asked, I’ve been coming up with them since the Jeremy Kyle days. Complete with sketches, mechanical plans and an index of suffering I’ve devised myself called the Caligula Scale.
For example we’ve got this one, where a system of opposing treadmills are set up. Here, on either side of the pit full of whirling blades. The genius bit is that each workshy porker is running against their opposite and only one can survive. That should motivate them.
Or here, where we put them into a high-sided arena to compete for a dangling ham. The sides are greased which I’ve represented with shading. The only way to get food is to clamber on the defeated bodies of your enemies, survival of the fittest-style.
All that may seem expensive, but it would be televised. The BBC ’s cancelling Doctors next month so there’s a slot. But I do have cheaper ideas involving whips, electric scooters and cross-country routes.
It’s not that I’m against injections. Drug addiction can be very slimming. But precious Ozempic should be saved for those who are a little bit overweight and have jobs who want to fit into the next jeans size down.
So come on, Britain. Ignore Wes Streeting’s liberal chatter about ‘transforming the health and wealth of our nation’. That’s not who we are as a country.
Let’s work together, in our pubs and our workplace canteens, to come up with a needlessly cruel programme to get the idle and oversized slim and productive. They’ll thank us for it.
