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LIKE something out of The Twilight Zone, the alien entity takes up residency on your body. You look down on it in horror but cannot shift it.

Sometimes, you think it a mirage caused by the way you’re standing. You think it a passing phenomenon caused by something you ate. And ate and ate and ate.

Yep, it’s your middle-aged spread. The monster from the deep fat fry. American scientists say it’s getting worse and starting in our thirties.

I was exactly 30 when I first discovered I could no longer eat anything I wanted and remain right skinny. That was just a little bump, not the great swelling obstruction that stops one seeing one’s feet.

I thought I was fine till recently when I tried donning trousers that lacked a “stretch” waistband.

Not an elastic waistband: just a waistband with a little give in it that’s a feature of nearly all “normal” trousers now.

Boy, it was disturbing. I thought the waistline button was going to pop off.

Well, back to the gym on Monday. I’ll wear a baggy T-shirt.