I may be the only person on earth who regularly watches FIT FARM. It's dire, of course, but I'd love to be in a secluded stately home (even with lurid green and orange decor-)with lush grounds, pools, and gyms stocked with those dummies you can beat up (Are they called "Mr Slam" or something?) and other equipment galore. There's nobody around to shout abuse at you or stare, just a few other sweating chubs. Lovely.
The 'experts' who are whipping the contestants into shape, are, of course, a loathesome gaggle of smug, patronising ectomorphs,and I was quite stunned by their disdainful diagnosis of idiot-girl Nicky, as a 'comfort addict'. The Hitler Youth trainer sadly shook his head and predicted she would always be unfit, and overweight, unless she can learn to take pleasure in being ever-hungry and constantly going for the burn. Eee, life's hard-