A fat filled, tasty, sexist sort of post.

A triple-decker if you will, with a topping of wii!
Firstly a very good Friday to you all.
Secondly this is a rambler, but see if you can track along with me,

Part 1-Europe is getting fatter. According to the European Commission our bellies are bulgier,our asses wider, our hips wider and out bingo wings flap-tacular. A full 50% of us are not overweight/obese and this figure is set to rise."The figures are frightening. More than 21 million children are overweight or obese," Mr Kyprianou -he of the commission said.

EUROPE'S HEAVYWEIGHTS
Malta - 26.6
Greece - 25.9
Finland - 25.8
Luxembourg - 25.7
Hungary - 25.6
Cyprus - 25.6
Lithuania - 25.5
Slovenia - 25.5
Denmark - 25.5
UK - 25.4
Body Mass Index figures (healthy = 18.5 to 25)

"Even more worrying, the rate of increase [among children] is more than 400,000 per year. Today's overweight children will be tomorrow's adults with all these chronic illnesses."

So there you have it, in a nut shell, in a McDoanalds wrapper, in a Nachos 'n cheese bundle. We're getting lardy-assed at an alarming rate. I don't know where the Irish fit the above graph, but if my walk all over Parnell street and Capel Street yesterday was anything to go by then we're probably right up there.

2-Part 2 Bearing this in mind let me impart my new breakfast on you all. Cheap as chips, healthy as a fox, and best of all, really really good for you and very low in the calorie department, with an added bonus of not feeling hungry for many hours after wards.
Superquinns are doing this see through plastic bucket of stuff called, Toasted Breakfast Cereal, from the Stable Diet company. Now, it's about four euros for the bucket and it weight 460 grammes. However you only need to use about three table spoons of it for breakfast and the bloody stuff is delicious. It's a combination of oat flakes, oat bran, sunflower seeds, coconut, almonds, walnuts, sun flower, and brown cane sugar. It's very very good. But if you mix it with a pot of natural yogurt, and some fruit the result is FANTASTIC!. Normally I like blueberries, but today I sliced up some strawberries to spoon through it. (Strawberries 6 euros for two large punnets. You only use about four strawberries per bowl so again it lasts for some time)
So
Some spoons of aforementioned cereal,
Natural yougurt.
Fresh fruit.
And voila! A good healthy hearty breakfast that was quicker to make than toast. I should point out the paramour, who is working from home today had a smoked bacon sambo while I had this.
Which leads me to my next section.

part-3Yesterday evening while shopping with aforementioned paramour, we paused a the meat counter in the aforementioned Superquinn to buy the aforementioned bacon.
Now there are varieties of bacon on display, streaky, smoked, maple backed Hickory and so on. We were going for the streaky-as it crisps up nicely.
'Which do you want?' Paramour said, peering through the glass. 'Smoky or normal?'
'I don't care.' I said helpfully. 'Get which ever one you like.'
'Hummm, I'll have a pound of the smoky please.' the paramour said to the much moustacheiod butcher dude behind the counter.
''Hurph. If you'd bought the other she's have been giving out to you when you brought it home.' Our delightful butcher. said, grabbing up chunk of smoky pork.
The paramour and I glanced up at him. 'No I wouldn't.' I said. 'I still wouldn't care.'
This for some reason offended afore mentioned butcher's testicles, causing them to wither up into his body.
'My guess is you'd never hear the end of it,' he persisted, making desperate eye-contact with the paramour.
'You guessed wrong then.' I said, with steely -eyed calm.
Once again he seemed to hear, 'Widdle woman, widdle, widdle." from far back in his frontal lobe.
'Huh.' He sealed our bacon. 'Good job you brought her with you anyway.' Quoth he.
'I didn't. She brought me.' The paramour said cheerfully, accepting his bacon with all the good grace he normally reserves for strange angry men who talk over his beloved and wear stripped pinnys. By this stage he had twigged the power struggle.
'I know my place.' He added joyously.
Our butcher, shot him the 'You're fucking ruining our club you smiley bastard,' look and stalked off to beat his chest, or torment old ladies or whatever it was he needed to do to reassert his place in the world. Perhaps he stalked the baggers, making cute comments on their breasts, who knows.
We went home and had spicy chicken wraps.
Then this morning the paramour, over his bacon sambo, informs me that he is going to buy a wii.
I think he's nuts, but also a gadget freak. So I salute him and am happy that he enjoys shit like that.
I know my place too.
And also, bacon, Kevin Bacon. All roads. Lead to. You have been warned.