Not a week goes by without the publication of a report telling us that we’re all getting fatter (well, duh). And every time it happens, TV news crews take to the streets in search of a sample endomorph whom they can secretly film as he goes about his business, oblivious. ‘The report’s authors say we’ll all be thirty stone by this time next year,’ intones the voice-over, just as your man makes another forlorn effort to drag his chinos up over his gut before heading into McDonalds. They’re always very careful to film below the neck, I notice, presumably to spare the blushes of their victim. But I very much doubt that it makes any difference. It can’t be any fun, can it, to be struggling with a weight problem and then to find your arse spread all over the TV as an example of how bad things are getting for the whole species? And it’s not just the weight issue. A woman nips out of the office for a fag, fails to spot the news crew in its blind across the street, and next thing she knows she’s providing the background image for ‘The report’s authors say we’re all morons who will be dead by this time next year.’ What’s next? Secret filming of the poorly-dressed? The stupid? The selfish? There are only two surefire ways of avoiding such public humiliation. You can either be perfect in every way, which isn’t as easy as it sounds, or you can carry a big stick and go all Jackie Chan on anyone who comes near you with a TV camera. Just make sure it is TV camera, though, and not a tourist’s camcorder. That can be unpleasant for all concerned. Don’t ask me how I know this. I just know, all right?