Fat City

We recently dropped into the Broadway Multiplex – proudly serving the residents of Glebe, Ultimo and Camperdown since 2001 – to catch Master and Commander – The Far Side Of The World . More about the movie later. Right now – perhaps surprisingly – I want to discuss obesity. I referred earlier to the impressively slim, Andrew Norton’s, blogospherical foray into the folds and bulges of this Big Issue, but I myself have been slow to pick up on the Great Fat Threat. I’ve been aware of it as kind of a background noise but I hadn’t really noticed the GFT until my pre-screening epiphany in Cinema 11.

I have unresolved unpunctuality anxiety issues so, inevitably, we arrived early.
Seated in mid cinema, we had a perfect view of the cinema entrance – backlit by the foyer lights – while we sat in pre-feature semi-gloom, ignoring the mildly salacious ads for Magnum icecreams et al. After about the fifth set of silhouetted arrivals had entered, I was noticing a trend. By the time the 50th group made it’s way in, the truth dawned: we are, unquestionably, in Fat City.

Uniformly big people kind of rocked in the door – as if carrying a keg of beer suspended from the loins – grasping popcorn, drinks, chips, ice creams, sweeties, Quikneazy Pork Roast Dinners, you name it. It was like a bunch of out-of-shape Sherpas portering in an Everest base camp. Surviving a two hour movie requires how many calories I wondered – and these people looked to be well ahead of the daily target before the movie even started.

Amidst creaking seats, the sound of tearing wrappers and much beverage gurgling, the company settled down to major munching while rake thin advertising models consumed yet more food onscreen – what’s the optimum marketing demographic for this movie? Foodies with a thing for sailors?

Once it started, the movie was great. I thoroughly recommend it, though I couldn’t help but notice that Russell Crowe – never exactly sylph-like – was himself looking about one month’s popcorn consumption away from Cinema 11 Syndrome.

I’ve been going for runs ever since….

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warbo
warbo
2021 years ago

I share your ‘unresolved unpunctuality anxiety issues’. Is there a self-help group for this kind of thing? Imagine the stories we could swap (the Time I Nearly Missed the 7.36 at Wynyard).

To throw some spice into my neurosis, I am married to someone who has unresolved punctuality apathy. Although, after 10 years of temporal tension, we are starting to reach a small degree of accommodation.

wen
wen
2021 years ago

I also have unresolved unpunctuality issues, but these are complicated by my being simultaneously afflicted with a leave-everything -to-the-last -minute complex. I’m always almost late… white rabbit syndrome, perhaps.

I’m also madly exercising (such slim fingers I’ve got!) – and trying to sort out unresolved lolly-eating and procreating issues. May need therapy – tho’ shock treatment would probably do the trick. Don’t want to leave it till I’m almost too fat to fit into cinema seats ….

cs
cs
2021 years ago

I haven’t got any punctuality or unpunctuality issues, but I enjoyed the read Geoff.

David
2021 years ago

I get shock treatment. i look at myself naked in the mirror every morning. But it doesn’t resolve my punctuality issues. In my case, its to do with being bright and happy at 4 am, and not so hot at lunch time..

I think of CS as a kind of astral presence.

Rob Schaap
2021 years ago

Rusty has an excuse, Geoff. Scrawny Stephen – who likes a pint of laudanum with his cheroot, btw – is always on at Jack for his weakness before the Drowned Baby and the Plum Duff. The ensuing captainly corpulence is a running theme I suspect we may see confirmed in a sequel not a million years from now.

Ken Parish
Ken Parish
2021 years ago

“I think of CS as a kind of astral presence.”

Have you considered psychiatric treatment, David?

As for Geoff’s ‘unresolved unpunctuality anxiety issues’, I can only assess them by my own very limited experience of him: Geoff arrived late at the first blog bash, and early for the second but left almost immediately, showing no manifestations of guilt or anxiety on either occasion.

On the obesity theme, has anyone else noticed that Virgin Blue flights seem to have more than their fair share of porkers? The gross individual who sat (or rather flopped and quivered) next to me on my most recent flight was so fat he had to be almost shoe-horned into his seat, and his gut touched the seat in front. Of course, the pitiful leg room Virgin leaves between seats (the price of cheap fares) probably wasn’t completely irrelevant, but this bloke was so fat he seemed to have trouble breathing normally much of the time: he snorted and snuffled an awful lot. Fortunately he was an extreme example, otherwise the plane probably couldn’t have reached take-off speed, but to a slightly lesser extent around 2/3 of the passengers were well and truly in Fat City. It probably has deep sociological significance, if only I could be bothered thinking about it.

Geoff Honnor
Geoff Honnor
2021 years ago

Don’t you go making light of my UUAI Ken. You’ve got other things to worry about. Troppo has been heavily nominated in ‘best NT blog’ category in the Australian Blog Awards despite the fact that no-one from the NT has blogged on Troppo since some bloke in Betty Windsor drag popped up briefly to do a Queen’s Xmas Message. There’ll be ugly, bitchy protests, I’m predicting.

The bloke next to you on Virgin wasn’t Senator Ron Boswell was it? Nice bloke, but I sat next to him once on a regional Ansett service and spent much of the flight trying to avoid being squeezed out into the aisle. The hostie was totally over having to climb over me.

I also remember flying from Rarotonga in the Cook Islands to the outer island of Aitutaki on a tiny plane packed with massive Polynesians, toting about 10 eskies each. We kind of screamed silently as the plane lumbered and staggered along the takeoff runway, in terrifying approximation of a deluded cow, wearing fairy wings, pursuing her aviation dream.

Scott Wickstein
2021 years ago

I can’t say that I noted excess baggage of the Porker variety the last time I flew Virgin Blue. Or, in fact, anywhere in my recent perambulations around the City of Adelaide.

Norman
Norman
2021 years ago

Australians began to run to fat at an increasing rate a few decades back now, and I’m pessimistic about any meaningful response to the growing problem being put in place. As with too many cars on the road, a decline in affluence is possibly the only viable “solution”, and that’s likely to come, only as a result of forces beyond human control.

waz
waz
2021 years ago

Much to my better half’s chagrin, I have agreed with Oscar Wilde that “punctuality is the thief of time.” for the more than 30 years of our marriage.
I must admit that I have fallen into line on occasions when overseas when language difficulties etc. can make missing ones transport somewhat uncomfortable.

Geoff Honnor
Geoff Honnor
2021 years ago

waz, I think that, “punctuality is the thief of time,” is much more admirable as folk wisdom than a barked, “punctuality is the politeness of Princes!” I always associate the latter with Kaiser Wilhelm II and Prussian heel-clicking – and my old school……

Gummo Trotsky
2021 years ago

It’s possible that the saying “Punctuality is the politeness of Princes” originally had the same satiric intent as the English saying “If you need to know the time, ask a policeman”.

trackback
2021 years ago

Summer fitness

For a summer bliss out, you can’t beat the beach imo, and particularly a beach in Bondi, Palmy or Byron. But if you don’t like being dumped, or you’re alarmed about the Great Fat Threat presently sweeping the wide brown…

trackback
2021 years ago

Summer fitness

For a summer bliss out, you can’t beat the beach imo, and particularly a beach in Bondi, Palmy or Byron. But if you don’t like being dumped, or you’re alarmed about the Great Fat Threat presently sweeping the wide brown…

trackback
2021 years ago

Summer fitness

For a summer bliss out, you can’t beat the beach imo, and particularly a beach in Bondi, Palmy or Byron. But if you don’t like being dumped, or you’re alarmed about the Great Fat Threat presently sweeping the wide brown…