My flight to Madrid was spoilt by the fact that Britain's fattest man was sitting in the seat next to me.

He must have been knocking on 30 stone...the seat belt barely got past his hips, let alone encircling his mountainous gut. The cabin crew had to give him a belt extension to keep him strapped down for takeoff.

Mr Lardarse fell asleep as soon as he took his seat. His porky arms spilled over the sides of his chair and threatened to encroach mine. His fat legs blocked the gangway, meaning I couldn't step over him to get to the loo mid-flight.

It got be thinking again about notions of able-bodied Vs disabled. If the plane had crashed I know for a fact which of us would have won the race for the emergency exit -- and it wouldn't have been Fatboy Slim.