GILES, BRITAIN'S LEADING FELINE GASTROPOD, is well fat. Tipping the scales at 7
stone 8 lbs, he's less an example of cat
obesity than a monument to it. He has to be
winched in and out of his basket, and
cat flaps have long been eschewed in favour
of people doors.
He has, in fact, recently lost a couple of
stone, but is still the lardiest mog around.
GOD knows what he looked like before, the
massive tub of guts.
His owner, who could do with losing a few
pounds herself -don't they always? - was
baffled until last Thursday.
'I bent down, and caught a distinct,
sickening whiff of warm beer. I couldn't tell
you exactly which bit it came from. I tend
not to get too close to him, truth be told,
because if he moves quickly, you can get
blindsided upside the head by a ripple of fat.
But it was definitely warm beer. Don't know
where he got it from. I won't have it in the
house.'
We asked a scientist if obesity of all
kinds could be basically the fault of warm
beer. He said this: 'It would be irresponsible to make any such conjecture. But
YEAH.'