Today I have been drilling holes in my belt.

This is to ensure that it does not fall off me, thereby allowing my jeans to fall off me. If that were to happen in the middle of the street - the middle of the office would be bad enough, mind - it might cause some embarrassment.

To put this in perspective, I'm still the size of a small Shamu. I haven't lost the extra chin, the thighs are still scary; I don't look like a human being yet. It's only been four or five weeks. But four or five inches' worth of leather has had to be mutilated, and performing mutilation with the aid of sharp whizzy objects is an unforeseen bonus.

Now I want to use power tools on other things, possibly people.