Is it a common thing for fat horrors to be completely delusional about what they look like. Thereâs a new âgirlâ just started working at our place. Iâm out of the office most of the time, but Iâve been in all today, doing reports. She sits about ten feet away from me and has spent the whole fcuking day on permanent send. Just from sitting here for a few hours, I know more about her than I do about my mum. Sheâs been regurgitating every last detail of her deeply uninteresting life to her mate. Right now, sheâs talking about the special shampoo she uses because sheâs got âfineâ hair. Other subjects Iâve been unable to avoid listening to are. Her forthcoming wedding to her childhood sweetheart Her sore feet Her love of the little Irish lad on X Factor Her dad and how he left them when she was little Her dislike of immigrants (not everyone, just the ones she meets or reads about) Her expensive new glasses Her wedding dress Her swimsuit for the honeymoon Her father-in-lawâs bottomless pockets. Her motherâs cure for verrucas Her need to go to Sainsburyâs on the way home, including entire shopping list. Iâm not joking, she hasnât stopped. Sheâs invented some new form of speech that allows her to carry on talking even when she inhales. I wouldnât mind all the stuff about the wedding, but (Iâve just had a quick look round to estimate) she must be knocking on for 16 stone. Sheâs a proper brute. The fcuking sap thatâs marrying her mustnât have seen her yet. When she started going on about the swimsuit, I gagged in the same way I would have, had I received a full on post-battle-camp skiff from a leper. The worst thing is sheâs doing that fat-bas-tard thing that all fat-bas-tards do. The girl who sits next to her offered her a Quality Street from a box thatâs doing the rounds. Youâd swear to fcuking God it was Lena Zavaroni doing the talking. âOooh, no thanks. Iâll never fit into my wedding dress if I eat one of themâ Sorry, love, the damage is done. Have a fcuking Quality Street. Thirty years of eating anything that walks past, like a fcuking ant-lion, means that one sweet isnât going to put a dent in your diet. She made a big deal of eating a solitary baked spud for lunch with no filling. Sorry again, love, the evidence is there. You might have had no filling today, but itâs apparent that all other times youâve gone for the beans-coleslawy-tuna-wagon wheel-fudge-sugar option. And thatâs why youâve got sore fcuking feet. Shoes werenât meant for those fcuking trotters, you rotter. And youâve got fine hair, because your heart is using all itâs resources to keep shifting your pasta-sauce blood round your veins. Thereâs nothing left for extremities. To give a bit of balance, the verruca stuff sounded interesting and apparently sheâs a good administrator, mainly because sheâs too fcuking fat and lazy to move away from her keyboard. Does anyone else have to work with the delusional? You know the type. âYeah, Iâm off down the gym after workâ You nod, but you know that they wouldnât even fit through the fcuking door.