So, I joined the gym. It's my first gym membership since the days when I used to go to a class, prance around for half an hour and then discover that everybody could see my underpants through a hole in my ugly gym pants.

Underpants, Mark. Yes, underpants.

It's been a while, and I figured I'd better join up if I didn't want the whole South America thing to turn into an episode of "Watch How Quickly I Can Die"*.

(*Not a real show, but wow, what a premise.)

It's costing me a shitload, because it's a Posh Gym, and by 'a shitload' I mean 'a fairly reasonable amount, but I'm just used to my Cheap-and-Nasty gym.' But here's what I'm noticing. I haven't even been there for a sweat-my-cobs-off session yet, and I'm jamming shit food in my mouth like there's no tomorrow. Like my body's saying, 'hey, you're going to be burning calories, better stock up, bitch'. And, 'you're trying to be healthy, so eat these M&M's, skank.'

Is your inner voice as abusive as mine?

Take today, for example. I jammed an entire pack of peanut M&M's in my mouth before my large and greasy lunch had made it through to my gizzards. Then I washed it down with a can of coke. And a can of V. And then I ate 12 tablespoons of sugar. Only one of these statements isn't true.

Any psychologists in the house? Is my body craving fat and sugar to be spiteful, or am I just a twat?

Wait. Don't answer that.