Tag Archives: fat

Irate Fat Girl

14 Jun

The football team I play for held an auction which was used to raise money for the team and more importantly, charity. It was a good laugh; a few beers were put away and the food was free, which is always a bonus. One of the highlights for me was when my brother outbid me to pay £22.95 for fifty litres of fruit juice. It was a lot I was happy to lose and although my brother didn’t mind that much, little did he know that he would have a setback of a different kind later on that evening.

After the auction, a group of us decided to head into High Wycombe to see what havoc we could cause over there. It was quite good, nothing special, but we had a laugh, danced like spastics on speed and drank far too much alcohol. By 2am, most of the group had retired for the evening and there were only 3 of us left; my brother, Mark and I.

 We decided to head for the only place that was left open, a dingy nightclub which attracts all manner of reprobates to it. Putting this aside, I wanted a drink, and so I was happy to go along, even if it meant paying a £6 entrance fee (the money grabbing twats). Into the club we strolled and then headed upstairs, straight to the bar. Mark bought a round of beers, and as none of us had much energy left in us, we decided not to strut our stuff on the dance floor. Instead, we stood at the bar and chatted about the night’s events, although I think I did break into doing the robot for a while.

We hadn’t been supping on our beers for long, when an attractive young girl came over to where we were and asked my brother if he fancied a dance. At first he was reluctant, but after we goaded him for a while, he accepted the invitation and joined her on the dance floor. Now, at the time I didn’t really know why what followed happened, I had to wait for my brother to tell me. It was certainly funny to witness.

After they had been dancing for a few minutes, the girl turned to him and whispered in his ear.

“Make me jealous”, she said through hushed tones.


“Make me jealous. Dance with another girl for a bit.”

 My brother was confused to say the least, but he didn’t really have much choice because no sooner had she made her demand, his dancing partner had turned to face another random bloke and was gyrating in front of him, all the while looking over her shoulder, winking at my brother. Not wanting to look like a complete lemon, standing alone in the middle of the dance floor, he decided to go along with what she had asked. ‘This is quite kinky’, he thought to himself.

Looking around him for a girl that he could dance with, he spotted a lonely looking girl dancing on her own, with a drink in hand. She was rather large and not very pretty and sweating quite profusely from her dancing. My brother stepped up in front of her and began dancing and the fat girl just gawped at him. This was probably down to the fact that he was doing the David Brent dance from The Office, his arms swinging from side to side as he squatted and sidestepped to and fro in front of her.

 “FUCK OFF” she barked, and her eyes went all big and bulbous, and veins in her forehead were popping out. As she said this she relieved the contents of her glass all over my brother’s head. She was not very happy, and my brother made things worse when he just started to crack up laughing at how she had reacted. It seemed to annoy her further, and she started jostling to get passed him, her arms slapping about like a pumped up sumo wrestler.

Eventually, my brother gave in and returned to join us, his hair now soaked flat to his head. Mark and I were in hysterics at the fat girl and also wondering why he’d stopped dancing with the good looking girl. When he eventually managed to explain, we felt we should go and ask the attractive girl why she wanted to be made jealous, but we couldn’t find her, she’d done a disappearing act. There was only one thing for it. First, we went to the toilets and helped my brother dry off under the hand dryers. Then we went back to the dance floor, found the fat girl, formed a circle around her, and danced like loons for as long as we could before she went mental again. We lasted about 20 seconds, before running away like naughty children.

Project Gok Wan

12 Apr

Ever since I set eyes on Gok Wan on my television screen a couple of years ago, I wanted to meet her. I became sort of obsessed with Gok; I would often wake in a sticky mess during the night after having vivid dreams about her lovely smile and beautiful cheekbones. Her friendly, flirtatious voice drove me crazy with desire. She became an inspiration to me as well after I had read about her drastic weight loss, and as a little porker myself, I felt owed it to her to let her know how she had made me look at my own life. I realised that being an overweight, sweaty and generally unhealthy male was not good for anyone, especially me, and vowed to do something about it. I started out on a vigorous training regime and began eating healthily, and I shifted 2 stone in just a single month.

As the pounds came off me, my urge to meet the lady of my dreams increased somewhat. I just wanted to let her know how grateful I was and how much I loved what she did for bulbous bastards like myself. In the back of my mind, I realised I was becoming a tad obsessed, but the more I saw the new me in the mirror, the more I blanked out these thoughts. It was in Birmingham, one Saturday afternoon in March, that I took the first steps towards meeting Gok – and meeting Gok had become my own little project.

A huge crowd had gathered around a temporary catwalk, and Gok was due on stage to present ‘How to look good naked’, a show which had become one of my firm favourites. I could feel myself getting hot and flustered at the thought of getting up close and personal with Gok, and I dabbed my brow with a handkerchief numerous times whilst I waited in the restless crowd. I managed to push my way to the front, and I reached the end of the catwalk, almost touching the stage. Gok came out from behind the curtains and everyone cheered.

“GOK! GOK! I LOVE GOK!”, I shouted at the top of my lungs, trying to get her to look over to me. It was hard to be heard over all the other screaming people, so I increased the power in my voice to an almost Brian Blessed size volume. This time I did attract some attention, but it was from a steward that was stood just in front of me.

“Anymore of that and I’ll have to escort you, sonny”, he said to me, placing one hand on my shoulder as he did so. I explained how much I loved Gok and that I just wanted to tell her how she’d helped me, but he was having none of it. I inhaled once more, and this time bellowed out at the top of my voice,


True to his word, the steward kicked me out of the shopping centre, with the help of two security guards and my attempt at meeting Gok had failed.

Not to be outdone, I wrote numerous letters to Gok at Channel 4, each time enclosing a picture showing how much weight I’d lost. Although I had no replies, I still had the determination to carry on. I would not fail this project – I would meet her one day, I was sure of it. Two months after the Birmingham incident, and now another 12 pounds lighter, I found out that Gok was doing a book signing at my local Waterstones. It was an opportunity I couldn’t miss out on, and once again, I found myself squashed amongst hundreds of other people, all eagerly waiting to see Gok on a Saturday afternoon.

Eventually a queue was formed, and one by one, Gok greeted everyone who had come to see her. Then, after two and a quarter hours of waiting, it was my turn. I was clammy and nervous as approached her. She sat, smiling, and I was instantly reassured as I walked up to her.

“Please…please Gok, please can you sign this?”, I mumbled, embarrassingly, as I slid my copy of her book over the table.

“No problem Girlfriend!”, said Gok, and winked flirtatiously at me. I had the horn instantly.

“Gok”, I started, “You have been an inspiration to me. I used to be 3 stone heavier than I am now, and because of you, I decided to change my unhealthy lifestyle and start doing something with my life. Thank you so much for being a smashing human being. I love you. I love what you do, I love everything about you. You are my ideal woman.”

“Honey, are you gay?”, came Gok’s reply. She sounded shocked.

“No ma’am, I’m not. I’m 100% heterosexual and I think I love you”.

Gok looked me up and down. “Security. Get this clown out of my sight”, she shouted, clicking her bony fingers twice, and with that, I was kicked out. Pondering my efforts on the journey home, I realised that my actions had been wrong. I had just announced my love to a woman that I barely knew, no wonder she acted like she did. However, my project was complete – I had lost weight, and met Gok Wan, so it wasn’t all that bad. I’ve carried on since and am now down to a healthy 12 stone.

If you ever read this Gok: Thank You xx

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