In normal circumstances and whilst walking the streets of London one would have made mental note of the fact that the world’s fattest man was zooming along the pavements on remote controlled heavy duty castors. Albeit a sight to behold attracting the attention of many a passer-by young Agnes, a level headed girl lost in thought as she was, missed him entirely.
On this particular bright spring morning, heading in the direction of her taxidermist place of work our pretty little will-o-the wisp was contemplating as to exactly why people would set traps in the forest in which to capture furry mammals to scoff when there was so much road kill about – road kill galore in point of fact, enough to feed an army.
On autopilot and completely engrossed in her deliberations she paid little heed to the fact that as she was about to cross the street an 18-wheeler was heading toward her at a terrific rate of knots. However, rather than she herself becoming road kill her guardian angel was at hand in the form of said world’s fattest man. Upon spotting a potential tragedy unfold before his very eyes he grabbed her by the collar back to the relative safety of the pavement as the lorry thundered by.
“That was a close shave luv…what were you thinking about stepping out like that?”
“Road kill as it happens…and by the way thank you, you just saved my life and if the truth be told being squished under a truck has scant appeal.”
“Road kill you say?”
“Yes, don’t know why…the thought just grabbed hold of me for some obscure reason. Do you eat road kill? Only I’m not being rude but you look like someone who does devour more than nibble – hope you don’t mind me saying so?”
“Well rest assured I have never in all my born days dined out on road kill. There that’s sorted…Maxwell Fromage at your service and I am the world’s fattest man I’ll have you know. At my last weigh-in I registered 108 stone exactly, or in pounds 1512 or in metric 685.831663 kilograms. Impressive don’t you think?”
“I’m not sure impressive is the right word but I do get your drift. Is the reason you travel about on castors because you are so very, how shall I put it…corpulent?”
“Sadly that is the case although it is small price to pay for being a world champion. You see all my life I wanted to be top of the pile at something but not being clever or athletic I had no option but to eat my way to the top. I’ve made a fortune out of all the photo-shoots and gobbling contests.”
“Interesting, and a tiny bit odd but each to their own. My name’s Agnes by the way.”
“I must say Agnes the effort of saving your bacon has rather taken the puff out of me. I think I need a bit of a sit down. The café I use is only just up the road and they keep an oil drum for me to sit on there so do you fancy a coffee and a snack?”
“Don’t mind if I do Maxwell what with the shock of nearly becoming flattened.”
And so it was Agnes and Maxwell found themselves in Bulky Bertie’s Café for the Terminally Rotund. Agnes had never been there before and despite walking this route every weekday for the past five years had never even noticed it. She spotted many porky chaps about the place but none as gargantuan as Max. She was quite shocked to see one man ordering a plastic washing-up bowl of latte to accompany several tiers of what looked like iced wedding cake no less! Maxwell advised Agnes that Bulky Bertie had spontaneously combusted only a couple of months previous and added that it would be for the best if he did not impart the full gruesome details of the former proprietor’s sad demise. Besides he didn’t want Bertie’s missus Paunchy Pat overhearing the tale and getting all upset.
While Maxwell filled his face on several buckets of cornflakes with chopped banana and clotted cream added, a quizzical Agnes sipped her Expresso and watched her saviour nosh away.
“Have you a girlfriend? Have you ever had a girlfriend…I mean ever?”
“What do you think?”
“Would you like a girlfriend?”
“I refer to my previous answer.”
“I wish I had a world record like you have Maxwell.”
“Well that could be arranged…what say you have sex with the world’s fattest man. I can tell you for certain that you would be the first in that regard.”
“Um, I don’t mean to appear rude or ungrateful and sweet man that you are but that was not the sort of world record I was thinking of…bit squalid if you like.”
“I was only joking luv, don’t take offence.”
“I know you were joshing Maxwell and furthermore I haven’t been offended at all…I do rather like you and maybe if you shed about 96 stone I might think about it…there’s me with a bit of funny banter now! But seriously wouldn’t you prefer a girlfriend to the world record you hold?”
“Well I suppose I would really. It certainly does get a bit lonely in the disused gasometer I call home. The thing is the quack tells me I’ll need to exercise to lose weight but I can’t get around without my castors.”
With that Agnes had a brainwave!
“Look Maxwell I’m no fitness trainer but I reckon you could get fit and reduce your vast bulk by rolling down a mountain side…I’m thinking here Mont Blanc in The Alps. The Chamonix Valley area has tremendously long slopes and being covered by a thick layer of snow you shouldn’t hurt yourself or anything like that. A couple of weeks’ vacation having a jolly good roll down and you’d be as fit as a butcher’s dog I think. And better still I don’t believe anyone in the world has ever rolled such a long distance under their own steam. You could dispense with your current record and hold a new one as well as losing the 96 stone I estimate you need to shed before I’d give you houseroom.”
“Yeah I’m up for that.”
It is often said that a rolling stone gathers no moss. However, when Maxwell did his now famous roll (it went viral on YouTube) he gathered snow about his person – indeed became the biggest human snowball known to mankind. Picking up great speed upon his descent he broke the sound barrier the net effect of which was that the trademark ‘boom’ caused an avalanche of such magnitude that it engulfed the entire Chamonix Valley thus destroying the tourist industry there for the season.
As for Maxwell when they eventually dug him out he was in a coma and hospitalized for over a year. Whilst in that coma the weight positively fell off him. It was thus the case that by the following spring when he regained consciousness he had indeed lost 96 stone and discovered he had held several world records – biggest ever human snowball; longest roll down a mountain; the only gravity aided breaking of the sound barrier ever achieved by an adult male; the most weight ever lost (by some distance) and the only single handed destruction of a tourist resort known to mankind. He was, in short, overjoyed yet his best prize was not one in respect of his multiplicity of records, no, his best prize was Agnes’ hand in marriage.
The pair now share his disused gasometer that has been tarted up rather nicely in Art Deco style. Rumours abound that Agnes still seeks a world record of her own and intends to try to beat the greatest officially recorded number of babies born to one mother, that being 69, to Mrs Vassilyev a peasant from Shuya, Russia in the 1800’s. Aside from Agnes’ world record attempt putting a spring in his step and a smile upon his face Maxwell has also promised not to eat any of his offspring!
As for Agnes, well she has not given road kill a second thought!