Graeme Whitfield

FEW years ago I got a job at The Journal which meant that I had to go to a lot of business dinners.

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At certain points of the year, I was out pretty much every Thursday at awards events, charity fundraisers or other dinners. What I saved in food bills was essentially cancelled out by dry cleaning bills for my tuxedo.

My boss at the time took me aside to give me some advice. “Leave the pudding or you'll end up...” he said, patting his belly to indicate the potential weight gain of weekly three-course dinners. As I already had something of a belly on me (still do), this seemed like sage advice, but there was a element of his plan that I was struggling with.

“Leave the pudding?” I thought. Was this some kind of joke?