"Smoking speeds up the metabolism," he said, "And alcohol... well, it's calories, which is useful if we're gonna be bulking up."
I've got a new personal trainer. John joins the long army of mildly disapproving Australians who regard my body with the encouraging pity of a hairdresser confronted by Bella Emberg brandishing a picture of Posh Spice.
My last real personal trainer got deported. Lovely bloke, but ran into trouble renewing his student visa. Scrupulously honest, he told them he hadn't studied anything for a while, and that they couldn't send him home as he was running a thriving business.
John's joined my gym after running the Chelsea Harbour Club.
"Where's the harbour in Chelsea, exactly?" I asked him
John looked at me blankly. "You know, I'm not sure there is one. Six years, and I never thought about that."
New gym is hilarious. It includes a clutch of scowling marys with time on their hands, and a hefty discount at the hotel bar.