This was my best mate in the world, Lee Marson.
This man has been bad-mouthing me to anyone who'll listen for about four years, ever since my mate's ex-girlfriend told him I was 'a bad person'. The first time I asked him about it (in 2007), he denied saying anything at all. The second time (in 2008) he admitted it and apologised (but didn't stop). The third time (also 2008) he absolutely promised me that this bad-mouthing would stop.
It didn't.
Last weekend I learnt that he had again been mouthing off about me (for the same reasons he had promised he wouldn't) to one of my oldest and dearest friends who I have been mates with since the first day I arrived at University (1994). I have since realised that without action this is never going to stop, and for this reason I have decided to fight him.
Anyone who knows me knows how much of a pacifist I am (my favourite television series is Doctor Who) and I have not personally had a fight since Jabez Clegg (1997) (which was less of an actual fight and more just some nobhead punching me in the face). Unfortunately since reasoning with the man has come to nothing, and since he has gone back on every single promise he has made to me regarding this, I feel that there is absolutely no alternative course of action.
It has been years now. And I just want it to stop.
Now Lee is a lot bigger and a lot harder than me and to fight him right now would be foolhardy, so, as I am currently between jobs, I have decided to spend the next three to four months getting myself into shape so that when the time comes, the fight will be much more of an even affair.
Some of you will be familiar with my previous (and unsuccessful) attempts to get into shape, as documented in the original Diary of a Fat Cunt, which I have decided to resurrect for this particular journey. This new diary will follow a similar format to the originals with two important differences: firstly, it will explain in brutally honest detail why I have concluded it necessary to have this fight (which will ultimately form part of my defence in court), and secondly, rather than just trying to lose weight as in the previous diaries, this time I am also concentrating on building hurtin' bombs.
Before I proceed, I must reiterate that my intention to fight is not one born of acrimony - it is simply that I want the cunt to shut up and over the next few months, if you decide to carry on reading, hopefully you will come to realise that I have had absolutely no other choice.
I joined the gym at Sachas hotel. All the equipment is old and falling apart, but I'm only coming here to hammer the exercise bike and it's £30 for six weeks membership. I'm going to give it four or five weeks and then upgrade to somewhere a bit less shoddy. I've started with some ad hoc gentle upper body resistance exercises and fifteen minutes on the exercise bikes as I've not done any exercise at all for a few months. I'm going to continue this next week until my body realises exactly what my brain is planning to do to it.
After Sachas, I did a bit of research into the types of exercise I ought to be doing for sheer brute force punching power which I'll start doing in a couple of weeks, once I'm not absolutely aching all over after every time I've been to the gym.
Apologies for the complete lack of updates. First of all I got right ill last Saturday (18th) and didn't really give myself enough of a chance to recover this week, and then I woke up today to find my ankle knacked. I've had problems before, but they've always been with the other ankle. I've kept things sensible and not moved about too much and hopefully I'll be able to start back at the gym on Monday or Tuesday. For the time being, I'll explain a bit more about my target.
I met Lee on my first day at Manchester University, outside the Kilburn building where we were both to spend the next three years studying. A week or so later I bumped into him in a takeaway in Fallowfield, and it transpired that he was in a neighbouring hall of residence. Within a couple of weeks he had become the unofficial eighth member of our flat. (There was an actual eighth member but what happened to him is anyones guess!) During this time, we were almost completely inseperable, with me revising with Lee for exams in subjects I didn't even do.
After University, Lee moved back to his home town of Maltby, Rotherham where New Labour were piloting their New Deal scheme which meant Lee working for a firm of landscape gardeners for £120 a week (half from the firm, half from the dole). Meanwhile I had landed a proper job at a Facilities Management company called TeleCity.
After about six months in the job, the company was already looking for more engineers so I urged Lee to apply. He wouldn't because he explained that his New Deal was coming to an end and he didn't want to let down the gardeners. We got more engineers and at the end of his New Deal the gardeners offered him the entire £120 a week themselves!
Fortunately TeleCity were looking for more engineers again a few months later. This time Lee didn't want to apply because he didn't have anywhere to live in Manchester. I told him he could crash at mine until he found somewhere and persuaded him to send his CV. After bigging him up, he was accepted for an interview and shortly after offered the job. Once he started, I introduced him to my colleague and (at the time) good friend Kev, and Lee spent the next six months living in a nest in the corner of my lounge
Five months after the situation had become untenable, we moved into a two bedroom place. We had only been there a month when I went on holiday for a couple of weeks and returned to find Lee had got his idiot brother a job at TeleCity and installed him in our lounge. Fortunately, a couple of weeks later I was offered a job in Amsterdam and went to live there for the next four years.
During my four years abroad, Lee and others would come over and stay at mine and I'd usually stay at his when I came back from Amsterdam, and this continued for about a year after I'd returned for good, as I spent a fair amount of time at my parents or working in various locations around the country, until I eventually moved in with Kev.
It was early 2006 when my mate's ex-girlfriend told him I was 'a bad person' and our friendship gradually disintegrated as a result of this. As described above, I did a lot for Lee, because he was my best friend - during his time in the job I'd got him at TeleCity he met his wife for example - and I have never asked for anything in return. However, I did rather expect him to give me the benefit of the doubt (especially over my mate's sociopathic ex-girlfriend) - and maybe to stick up for me when other people were slagging me off, rather than joining in (or later even ringleading).
I'm not so much angry about any of this as extremely disappointed, but as it is continuing to this day, I am forced to take matters into my own hands and make a violent physical gesture to shut the fucker up.
Went back to the gym today after recovering for various ailments, so I'm a couple of weeks behind my original schedule but can't really complain. Just did twenty minutes on the exercise bike as I didn't really want to over exert myself.
