The myth of the jolly fat man

After last week’s revelation that James Corden was banned from a New York restaurant for being repeatedly horrible to staff, I’ve been considering the different way fat men and fat women are viewed.

Fat men are invariably seen as jolly – who can imagine a thin Father Christmas? – despite the rollcall of porky evil, from Fatty Arbuckle, abuser of women, to Cyril Smith, abuser of boys. If they are well–connected drunks, fat men may also be called ‘bon viveurs’ whereas fat women are seen as ‘eating their feelings’ at best, being lazy and thick at worst.

To declare my considerable skin in the game, I am an overweight sexagenarian (I resemble one of those game old girls in a Beryl Cook painting) who in my youth was a size 10 with a handspan waist. But what did beauty get me? Tony Parsons. I also noticed that, when slender, I just couldn’t seem to stop committing adultery. There’s a lot to be said for losing one’s looks – one’s morality improves immeasurably. Nevertheless, I have no time for those women who are ‘proud’ to be fat, or plead ‘big bones’. I got this way through hedonism and idleness, and I’m sure I’m no exception. If the ‘fat activists’ of Instagram were actually active, they wouldn’t be fat.

But it’s obvious why they’re overreacting. For as long as the entertainment industry has existed, female comics from ‘Two Ton’ Tessie O’Shea to Jo ‘Sea Monster’ Brand have seen fit to draw attention to their fatness before some hideous heckler reminded them of it. You can’t get away from Miriam Margolyes now – old age confers comfiness on the obese – but she has been an actress since she was a girl and for many of those years confined to voice-work.