ON SUNDAY

DEANO

HOW do you think Britain is going to solve the childhood obesity problem?

It seems that, even with Brexit looming, namby- pamby European “human rights” legislation means boot camps for tubby little f** kers along with bread- and- water rations are out.

Making these face- stuffing mini- gluttons work off the flab on treadmills is also a no- go, apparently.

So what do you think the Department of Health has come up with?

Forcing restaurants to print the calorie count of meals on their menus. No, really. I shit you not. For the love of the living c** t! What f** king planet do these shit- for- brains live on? I’ll tell you what planet. Planet F** king London, that’s where – a place where common sense is surgically removed at the city limits.

How many times have you sat down at a restaurant and thought: “Hmmm… I wonder how many calories are in this pie”? Exactly. Twice the square root of f** king never.

Now some common sense has entered the equation in the form of the Treasury, who have warned that plans to force restaurants to put calorie counts on menus could push up prices and lead to thousands of job losses.

Chief Secretary to the Treasury, Liz Truss, has said the policy would be a burden on 26,000 small businesses and could lead to severe job cuts.

The Treasury estimates that working out the precise calorie count of individual dishes could cost up to £ 500 and menus would have to be reprinted when recipes changed, adding further costs. There’s another thing, too. You don’t go to a f** king restaurant to lose weight!

Calorie counting will just be a way for the big chains to cut portions while keeping the price the same.

It’s not dining out that makes people fat f** kers – it’s the 24 Mars bars they shove in their stupid, drooling faces while watching The X Factor.

How could the Department of Health – which had £ 122billion thrown at it last year – think that this was ever a good idea?

What kind of halfwits are running the show there?

Note to Britain’s civil servants: if you can’t come up with a sensible suggestion, just keep your f** king traps shut.

Better to be silent and have people think you’re useless than open your gob and prove it beyond all doubt.