Who ate all the Pies?

As I have mentioned in the past I find myself killing time in a industry which is full of lard. Yes there are perks to my to my line of work, they usually bounce on the treadmill and mesmerise even the the biggest geno, wearing his trade mark bonds top while admiring himself during the gun show. As I was saying yes you do occasionally get a fit tidy thing come and see you for advice, but predominantly my day consists of more ass than the donkey stall at the royal Melbourne show. I can understand that some people enjoying carrying abit more junk in the trunk, some folk wear abit of chunk well, and each to their own I'm all for abit of junk. But what I'm harping on about is the big fat stinker... And yes they smell, my nostril hair seems to quiver at the thought of even heading to work. This monstrous being, once as common as a yetti, is now almost common at the local gym. And good on em 4 having a crack, but what I notice is "big Jim" will hit the gym for a week or so, then Jims no where to be seen, which is hard cause Jim ain't the size of the tv remote. Then a few years later jimbo will walk in the doors yet again even more voluptuous than b4, all to start his week training regime again. The question is, how chunky does one have to get before they stop and think, fuck I it's been a while since I last saw my feet..As a trainer u live with constant barrage of the same old chunky questions, how long will it take to loose 50kg? Can I still eat maccas? Can I just drink on the weekend? And after dealing with this crap for the better part of a decade I see people feel many things for the large pant man.. Sum feel sorrow, pity, etc... I'm constantly hearing it's not their fault... Well who's fault is it? Personally I see it as just piss poor weakness. As I good mate of mine says "any cunt can stay in bed on Sunday and eat bacon and eggs". And it's true to a point where it takes a strong will person to get outta bed and challenge themselves physically, and no I'm not talking about rolling over and waxing one out. Out of the 100's of chunky arses that have walked thru the doors sideways, only a hand full have kept with it to be able see their genitals.. So Jim, the bloke who wears a deluxe model from rays tent city, may stroll in once a year and ask as much advice as he pleases, but unless I can put some gaffer tape around their gobb, advice isn't what jimbo needs. As another mate says "u can lead a horse to water, but u can't force it to drink". So the horse be wasting my time, and keeping KFC stock high.So who ate all the pies? U FAT BASTARD, U FAT BASTARD U ATE ALL THE PIES Sent from the gates of hell