Why are so many men on diets? I blame feminists

According to Jenni Russell, my colleague at the Times, David Cameron has lost 13lb since Christmas, mainly by giving up on peanuts and biscuits. Now that’s a lot of peanuts and biscuits. It’s a bit yo-yo, Cameron’s weight, isn’t it? He gets bigger, he gets smaller again, like a giant, very pink, human-shaped balloon that some giant unseen hand is alternately squeezing and relaxing around the legs. He wears it well, though. When Nigel Lawson lost all that weight he looked like a man with a puncture.

George Osborne only shrinks these days, and will soon be as slim as his own lapels. So I suppose Cameron might be spurred on by the sight of him every morning, picking up muffins in cabinet and putting them down again with a sigh. Ed Miliband is fairly slim, too, although I doubt that’s wholly deliberate. He strikes me as one of those people who genuinely forgets to eat. Indeed, you sort of suspect he might occasionally need a small prompt with the breathing thing, too. ‘Ed!’ Justine will say, in alarm. ‘Your face is doing that purple thing again! And you’re swaying!’ And Ed will gasp, ‘Whoops.’

Pretty much every man I know who is under the age of 55 is on some sort of a diet. This could just be something I’m suddenly noticing because of my own age, which is not quite yet into the foothills of middle age, but has lately undeniably joined the uphill trek out of youth’s hedonistic valley. Only I don’t quite think that’s all it can be. A generation ago, I’m sure men didn’t have figures. Instead they had tailoring. You didn’t have to sculpt your body because that was the responsibility of some oldish, fruity gent with a measuring tape around his neck, who would normally rely upon a waistcoat to do the job.