OK, I get that once you’re blind it doesn’t really matter what you look like; you can be pretty sure that if someone loves you it’s not because you’re a great waterskiing partner.

So your life isn’t really about the looks (get it?), but still, to me, there’s something odd about a blind person that is fat-as.

First of all, if my chief concern in life was not bumping into things, I would think that being three feet wide would be somewhat of a hindrance. If you’re bumping into doorways on both sides at the same time then dear lord stop eating or stop walking. You may not be able to read the nutritional information on the side of the packet but surely the sheer volume of food you’re consuming should be setting off alarm bells.

Second of all, if I was the primary carer for a blindy, I would be trying all sorts of shit out (you know, to help). I’d replace your normal milk with the low-fat variety. I would add a greater and greater percentage of Slimfast to everything you eat until you ate only Slimfast. And – for shits and giggles – I’d put cocaine in your toothpaste. I think it goes without saying that I’d move the furniture around.

I want to come to a conclusion, I badly do, but I can’t wrap my head around what I find odd about really fat blind people. It makes sense, the more I think about it. Being blind has to be really weird (and probably sucks quite a lot). I wouldn’t leave the house. I’d sit around all day eating whatever my primary carer left for me and hoping the supreme pizza in the fridge had mushrooms that weren’t fucking magic for a change (who wants to hear in colour when you can’t even see in it?) and that the TV remote was where I left it (and ditto for the TV). And please once could there not be firecrackers in the microwave.

I’d be a big fat angry piece of shit if I was blind. There’s my conclusion.

I love you blind people, keep up the good work.

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Update: two days later it’s dawned on me that blind people probably don’t care where the TV remote is.