Get the fat kid. Start running blubber ball, we’re out to get ya!
Why are we picking on little fat kids? How did being fat become the greatest crime against humanity? Why do we even think we have the right to corner the fat kid, wrench the burger out of their chubby fist and give them a stern lecture on what they should and shouldn’t eat? Last week the Chief Minister for Lean and Hungry Looks, I mean for the ACT, Katy Gallagher declared a war on fat. There will be fat repentance booths, sorry, clinics. There will be sugary drink prohibition in schools encouraging, I suspect, bootleg Coke smuggling over the border. And there will be government-sponsored body standardisation procedures, oops, lap band operations.
It has been ordained by the gods of television that all jobs and/or careers shall be seen now and again in a positive light on TV. Doctors, cops, lawyers, nurses and even vets enjoy their moments of digital glory. Chefs, landscape gardeners, carpenters and even real estate agents are now pin-up boys. The girls in these shows are hot. Any girl who can look good and knock up a coffee table that a bloke can plonk his feet on has to be a babe.