This is from yesterdays Daily Mail. It beggars belief that the state are funding this 70 stone / 444 kilogram idle bloater
ARTICLE :
"Let's agree that 70-stone Paul Mason, Britain's fattest man, has some kind of serious disorder and needs treatment. I'd even go along with those who argue that he's as entitled to help as an anorexic young woman.
The difference is that you don't treat an anorexic by sticking your fingers down her throat and making her throw up.
Mr Mason should have been Sectioned and force-fed Slim-Fast. Instead, his 'carers' indulge his 20,000-calorie-a-day junk food habit plying him round the clock with burgers, pizzas, sausages and fish and chips.
Next to his specially-reinforced bed there is a fridge containing snacks and fizzy drinks and selection of sweets he can eat between meals without ruining his appetite.
A team of social workers pushed him down to the local chippie twice a day in an extra-wide wheelchair.
Sisyphus should have been so lucky. When Mr Mason became too fat to get through the door, they would fetch his food for him.
Chip shop manager Bob Singh Pharuga said: 'It was ten times what a normal person would eat. He would order four large cod, two pies, four battered sausages and six large portions of chips. He'd wash it down with a couple of bottles of Coke.'
He was regularly spotted rolling his wheelchair down the McDonald's drive-in lane to collect his supply of Big Macs. 'Would you like fries with that?' 'Is Tony Blair a Catholic?' Since he ballooned to 70 stone and became bedridden, his food arrives by Asda home delivery, with taxpayers picking up the £15,000-a-year bill.
Mr Mason exists on an extensive array of welfare benefits. He has two full-time helpers to wash him and take him to the toilet. His elaborately-adapted bedroom features an assortment of winches, hoists and motors to help him sit up so he can watch television and play computer games, the only exercise he gets.
It is estimated that he has cost taxpayers around £1 million over the past few years. The last time he left his house in Ipswich, Suffolk, for a hernia operation, it took a fork-lift truck to shift him.
Now that he needs life-saving surgery, the NHS considered spending £20,000 hiring an RAF Chinook helicopter. They seem to have settled on a special £90,000 ambulance with juggernaut-strength chassis and axles.
Getting him out of the house will involve the fire brigade and a demolition team. They should send for Bernard Cribbins.
Right said Fred, have to take the wall down,
That there wall is gonna have to go. Doing!
It didn't have to be like this. A few years ago, while serving a prison sentence for stealing from his job as a Post Office worker, he slimmed down to a sylph-like 20 stone. On release, he piled it all back on, claiming that he was comfort-eating because he was depressed. To his credit, when he hit 60 stone, he went on a milk and banana diet, shedding a third of his body weight, but predictably it didn't last. Mr Mason has even sought medical help but was turned down for a stomach-stapling operation and a gastric band.
Why? It worked for Fern Britton. Now that he's morphed into a modern-day version of Monty Python's Mr Creosote, it may be too late.
One more wafer-thin mint and. . . His heart is the size of a football and an operation might kill him.
If ever there was a case for early intervention, it's Paul Mason. As I said, he should have been taken into care for his own good under the Mental Health Act.
With a proper diet and medication, he may have been able to lead a fairly normal life. How many 'experts' and case conferences did it take to decide that the best course of action would be to encourage him to eat himself to death?
The Government talks about tackling our obesity epidemic, yet here we have Britain's fattest man being turned into foie gras with the full connivance of the NHS and Social Services and a cavalier disregard for public money. But this is the way the system works these days. In the name of efficiency, 'carers' employed by a private agency are hired at great expense to pander to the patient's every need.
They interpret their job as wheeling a morbidly obese man down to a chip shop twice a day and buying him enough junk food to feed a small army.
When he is too fat to leave the house, instead of removing him to a special hospital, a small fortune is spent turning his bedroom into a luxury-coffin, brimming with high-tech equipment.
Rather than ask Meals On Wheels to supply him with a sensible, balanced diet, his case workers agree to let him carry on stuffing his face with takeaways and curries.
I didn't realise the 'five-a-day' initiative extended to deep-fried pizzas.
This isn't 'treatment', it's assisted suicide. Imagine how women denied 'too expensive' £1,600-a-month breast cancer drugs by the NHS must feel when they read that the State is spending a similar amount on fast food for a 70-stone freakshow exhibit.
While our troops are suffering from a shortage of helicopters in Afghanistan, back home an NHS Trust seriously considers paying £20,000 to hire a Chinook to airlift Britain's fattest man to hospital.
No one in authority, at any stage, had the presence of mind, or the courage, to turn round and say: 'Hang on, this is madness.'
If you are looking for a perfect metaphor for Britain's bloated, sclerotic welfare state, look no further than Paul Mason. "
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/debate/ar...#ixzz0UryOllN7
£15,000 a year Asda foodbill 
What sort of nanny-state have we created,small wonder the world sees us as a soft touch 
it is no wonder we are seen as a soft touch and every Tom, Dick & Abdul is fighting in Calais to jump on the back of the next lorry
Originally Posted by James Hubbard
er is a good for 
Theres some wierd 'uns out there 
