Whatever that means
One of those Christmas oddities, on top of the food that you wouldn’t look twice at for the rest of the year, is the little bowls of chocolate that appear. It becomes normal, expected even, to munch on chocolate. So this fat lad is sitting beside me with his belly full of Quality Street. I’m ignoring him. Tempter. I’ve got a bike’s worth of body mass to shift and if it’s a choice between chocolate and beer, the beer will win.