New study finds it's good to be fat

I’ve finally worked out what it is that’s killing people. It’s not butter or margarine. It’s those clowns who carry out the medical studies. Every day we’re told that studies show that eggs are killing more people every hour than Stalin ever did — only to be informed two days later that in a study conducted by the doctors at the Foghorn Leghorn Rooster Farm, eggs were found to be good for depression because they assist in raising serotonin levels.

In other words, two fried eggs sunny-side up later, chances are you’ll be cheery by noon and dead by three o’clock. Don’t buy any long-playing records or books over 100 pages.

Studies show that red meat causes cancer, alcohol will pickle your liver and smoking is your all-round Jonestown Guyana massacre revisited.

Now, having spent a lifetime being told that being fat is worse than smoking a carton of Camels at Wimpy, while eating your full English and downing a bottle of Scotch from your hip flask, a new study finds that being fat is actually good for you.

Of course this slightly contradicts the studies on everything from heart failure and strokes to
diabetes and cancer, but who are we to complain when the doctors from “The Eat More Fatty
Biltong Foundation” bring us great news like this?

My best is: “In fact, scanning the whole gamut of diseases that could curtail your life, being overweight is, on balance, a good thing.”

By which they mean when you weigh yourself, “balance” yourself on your left foot while trying to hug the towel railing, which should drop a few kilos off the reading.

“The bottom line, the scientists [presumably those on crack] say, is that modestly overweight people demonstrate a lower death rate than their peers who are underweight, obese or — most surprisingly — normal weight.”

Whatever these wenners are smoking, I want some.

I can just imagine the effect that this garbage is going to have on the Americans — The Jerry Springer Show:

“Pam, a slightly overweight yenta from Florida (she looks like Florida has been uprooted and sat on the couch), has been sleeping with her mother’s boyfriend, Fred (this wenner has to jump around the stage or you won’t see him). Tonight she has to break this terrible secret to her slightly overweight mother.”

Fade to um … er … a “slightly overweight”, 300-pound, outraged hippo impersonator thundering on to the stage. Unfortunately she has a piece of chewing gum stuck to her shoe that she is trying to scrape off while snorting on account of her bad cold. If that was in the Kruger National Game Park they’d shoot it before it could charge the tour bus.

Then it’s about two billion swearwords before the customary fist fight on stage. Fred’s gone
missing until you realise that he’s been caught in the crack of Pam’s mother’s backside, from the time she sat on the couch.

Ending with Jerry’s customary sage advice on how sad it is that relationships have deteriorated to this level, Pam’s mother still furiously pawing the stage in the background.

The only way that people will ever be able to lead a normal, happy and productive life is if they eat, drink and be merry.

And reintroduce the death penalty for any genius who carries out a medical study.