A 42-stone man from Cabragh has told of his ambition to lose a third of his body weight and make it into the Dungannon Observer.
Morbidly obese Sidney Clarke decided to shed some weight after realising that he could no longer see his own feet, but despite his best efforts is unable to shift virtually any of the weight.
“I can’t understand it”, he bemoaned. “Doctor McElhattan gave me a strict diet of wholemeal bread, salad, pulses and veg and stuff. I make sure I have it every single night of the week without fail, just before my normal tea out of the Chinese or chippy. But none of it’s working. Feckin’ doctor. He’s a waste of space. He even told me that since Opal Fruits changed their name to Starburst, they don’t even count as one of my five a day”.
Clarke’s willpower and motivation has also been affected by lack of progress following a book he purchased initially with high hopes, entitled, ‘You’re Amazing! – How To Think Yourself Thin’, basically a 20-word diet stretched into nearly 300 pages costing £19.99 available at all good bookshops to gullible and desperate men like Clarke.
“I’m thinking of a new approach”, confided Clarke. “I’ve read about this diet that’s great for weight loss with guaranteed results, where they basically open you up and rip a whole lock of guts and stuff out your stomach that you don’t need and then stitch you back up again. Mighty. I think that’s a weight loss programme that could really fit with my lifestyle”.
In the meantime Clarke has resorted to other tactics in an effort to get himself noticed.
“I’ve been walking past the Observer offices in Ann Street wearing my ‘I Beat Anorexia!’ t-shirt, hoping that I’d get described as ‘larger than life’ or even as a ‘chubby funster. ‘Fat Lord’ doesn’t really have the same ring about it. And I’d love the Observer to photograph me after losing loads of weight, standing sidey- ways inside my old trousers with a big smile on my face. But I’ve only lost 2 pounds so far and the doctor reckons I have at least 120 to to go. Some handlin’”,
said Clarke, before going into an uncontrollable coughing fit and reaching for a packet of custard creams.