I know, I know, I'm fat!

On UK television this evening, we watched an episode of a documentary series about Whipps Cross Hospital ( a large general hospital in north-east London). One of the featured patients was a man suffering from the usual complications of heart failure, odema, breathing difficulties, impaired mobility, etc. He was a very sick person and he freely admitted that his current plight was a result of years of over-indulgence.

At this point. a kindly volunteer arrives wheeling a mobile shop from which patients can purchase some 'treats'. Our patient buys Coca Cola, chocolate bars and other assorted confectionery that, if someone else had fed them to him, they would be at risk of being charged with attempted murder.

You might think that a rant now follows - you would be wrong! But ...

Next year, my GPs are almost certain to be given some targets for controlling obesity in our patients. I have no idea why the Department of Health thinks that we can make a difference. Who doesn't know about fibre, fat and five-a-day? Who always looks sheepish when their weight is mentioned? Who doesn't know all about eating less and exercising more?

In case you're wondering, my BMI is nearer thirty than twenty and my waist is only just surviving. Few of us do what we know to be right even when the chicken (and chips) have come home to roost like our Whipps Cross patient who confessed to sneaking into a cupboard during the night to top up his cocoa and refined sugar levels.