7 things carnivores do differently

1 – Discuss. Carnivores talk about their food with a degree of reverence and awe and gratitude that demonstrates deep appreciation of the simple yet profoundly satisfying experience of eating fatty meat. It’s very different from the offhand attitude engendered by fast food. Another way in which carnivores discuss their food differently is that there is no competitive element, little or none of the humblebragging and smug virtue-signalling that you get in the social media posts from non-carnivores/ZCers. (Yes, there is the irony that this whole blog post might be construed as a huge humblebrag).

2 – Listen. As in, those who are militant about their food choices, those who are evangelical about their ways of eating, don’t seem to listen to what other people are saying. Carnivores/ZCers seem to be able to hear what others are saying even if they don’t agree.*

*Especially when what the others are saying is factually incorrect. Such as ‘early humans lived on lentils and beans, ‘ which I have just seen asserted!

3 – Repeat. When my way of eating is under scrutiny from a standard diet eater, I ALWAYS get, ‘but it must be boring just to eat meat every day. Don’t you get bored with it?’ I say things like, ‘Is drinking water every day boring? Do you get bored having a cup of tea every single morning of your life without fail? Do your children get bored of cereal and milk for every breakfast of their lives?’ No, no and no. And nor do I ever get bored of repeating meat eating. (In my carbivore days I couldn’t have eaten, say, pizza, twice a day for weeks at a time.)

4 – Chuckle. There seems to be a medical condition in those who prefer to eat solely from the plant kingdom by which their way of eating causes a pathological sense of humour leakage, leaving them unable to laugh at anything, let alone their ways of eating, or, heaven forbid, themselves. I have found an abundant sense of humour in my co-carnivores/ZCers (sometimes a little primitive for my sophisticated and elegant tastes, just kidding) including the vital capacity to laugh at oneself.

5 – Complain. My Facebook feed, fuelled by real friends, Facebook ‘friends’ and fellow members of various communities, is often filled with little but whinging and whining. (More irony – I am complaining about the complainers). This restaurant didn’t have enough vegan options. Unpleasant attitude towards vegans/vegetarians/dog owners/communists/whatever. Complain about Trump. Complain about Brexit. Weather too hot. Can’t get a decent cleaner. Got a parking ticket. Dog shit on the pavement. Complain, complain, complain. I just don’t get that from the members of the carnivore/ZC communities to which I belong. Which is refreshing.

6 – Shoving it down people’s throats.There’s an amusing (unintentionally) YouTube video of a militant vegan screaming into the camera, ‘Leave the f***ing animals the f*** alone! Leave them the f*** alone!’ That by itself raises a giggle, but the fact that he loses a tooth during his rant (please don’t tell me the whole thing was staged/fake news, but if it was I apologise for my naivety) because of his useless vegan gums makes it funnier. But imagine a carnivore screaming at the vegans, ‘Leave the poor defenceless plants the f*** alone!’ You’ll have to imagine it, because it’ll never happen. With carnivores, there’s never any sense of trying to impose an ideology onto people who aren’t interested. Live and let live.

7 – See. Clearly. Use logic. Base actions on evidence. Disregard propaganda. See through lies. Ignore arguments based on emotions. Distinguish, when it comes to nutrition, between shoddy, incompetent science and sensible science. Be aware that branches of the media have a ‘vegenda’ (= ‘vegan agenda’, not a malformed anatomical part).

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How to age gracefully.

There was the time when someone slipped a shot of pure ethanol into my beer and I unwittingly drank it. Great joke. I ended up in a bit of a mess.

That will have taken a few years off my life. Oh, and the Ducados. As a student, my favourite brand of cigarette was OPs – Other People’s. But the time came when I graduated to buying my own, and when I went to live in Spain, I found Ducados, cheap and not very cheerful. Black, bitter tobacco, stronger and more addictive than anything I’d ever had.

Those will have taken a few more years off my life.

So now, decades later, I’m doing my best to claw those years back. In my idiotic youth (which I’m only just getting past), I assumed, looking around me, that as a person passed through life they stooped, stumbled, shrank, withered, wheezed, trembled, got very fat, got emaciated, coughed incessantly, needed thicker and thicker glasses and wore predominantly nylon clothes all as a matter of course.

And that state could last 20 years (nylon takes ages to wear out…). It’s called ‘extended morbidity’.  In the wild, an animal’s morbidity – the moments when it is approaching its end – is brief. It is incapacitated and dysfunctional only right at the end.

With us, not so much. Medical science can keep us away from death’s door, but still in the porch, for a very long time. Maybe even a third of your life.

Our ancestors then, and wild animals now, are always active – they have no choice – and eat only what they are optimised to eat – again little or no choice there.

In illnesses that cause muscle wasting, there is a point at which the lean body mass can no longer support life. A loss of 40% of lean mass is fatal. When this happens over a couple of years, it’s a tragedy. When it happens over the course of a few decades, it just your average western ageing process.

Not enough activity. Too much insulin. These are the curses of our western lives. As we lose muscle mass, we lose the ability to stress our bones. Our bones lose density and become vulnerable. Maintaining muscle mass, keeping insulin low, and holding on to some of those vital fast-twitch muscles, the ones which disappear first as we age, are ways to stave off extended morbidity.

ZC/carnivory is the key to low insulin, we know this, and it is how our ancestors ate. High levels of animal protein feed strong muscles. Strong muscles, with some fast-twitch fibres retained, let you exercise harder and get into a positive cycle that keeps you hale and hearty till close to the end.

Low insulin and no PUFAs will mean lower or zero levels of global inflammation, another key indicator of the likelihood of coming down with chronic disease, ‘diseases of civilisation’.

And for god’s sake, train for strength. Make your glutes into boulders; make your quads into tree trunks, press things over your head, lift and carry heavy things. Strength training needn’t be too complicated. Stop with the jogging and the 15 lengths of breaststroke, it does nothing for your strength. Or your body composition, for that matter.

Train for strength. Keep your insulin low (just eat meat). Age gracefully.

Till next time.

How to train when you’re old and broken.

I thought I’d share some thoughts on training as they apply to me, a gentleman who, youthful and vigorous, lean and sinewy as I may be, has notched up a half-century; and if they apply to me, then they most likely apply to anyone who has waved goodbye to their 20s, 30s and maybe even 40s, as I imagine is the case for many of the readers of this blog (I love you all, I very much appreciate your indulgence).

I’ll have to go into detail, though, so be prepared. And I’ll try to shoehorn a ZC angle in at some stage, even though this is a very ‘me, me, me’ post, for which I apologise.

After beginning with rough, tough collision sports and then getting into endurance sports, I now reject sport pretty much completely. The priority is physical condition, strength and mobility.

Sport has a nasty of habit of giving with one hand and taking away with the other. I’ve won trophies, scored match-winning goals and tries, achieved decent PBs in a range of race distances, hung out with great people, learned new sporting skills, and more. All good. But, (violins, please) my left ankle is not attached properly, got to be careful there, my right ankle appears to have a piece missing inside (a nut or a bolt that’s come loose), my left knee sometimes seems to have a white-hot coal lodged in it, my right knee barely qualifies as a ‘joint’, my low back was damaged at age 18 and has screamed and howled at me all my life, my neck has two vertebrae grinding bone on bone in a most unpleasant way, I have an unmended broken finger snapped by a high-velocity cricket ball and I no longer have a full head of hair.

Well the hair thing isn’t attributable to sport, but all the others are. So if I’m not training to play rugby or race a triathlon or run a trail marathon any more, what is my objective? What are our best objectives?

Work. Work capacity.

Given no.1 – it is extremely difficult for someone of around our age to put on a lot of muscle. Or any muscle, sometimes.

Given no.2 – anyone of our age who’s been training consistently for several years has most likely hit the mother of all plateaus. This one is really hard to swallow, I choke on this all the time.

You may know that I train with kettlebells. Here’s an example of me training for work, then work capacity, motivated on this occasion by an impending 10-day kettlebell-free holiday abroad, and hence using the most kettlebell-y exercises, the swing and the snatch, challenging myself with the kettlebells that I would rather not use, the 32kg and the 28kg (I do the majority of my training with the 24kg bell).

My vow: ‘Each day for (x) days I will do 150 swings with the 32kg and 50 snatches with the 28kg. (And accumulate 60+ seconds of tuck lever hold – just added that in to balance posterior and anterior). Plus whatever workout I do with a client’. (Plus other stuff if I feel like it, which I always do).

Day 1 (I won’t go through all the days, don’t worry) I spread it throughout a morning, doing 10s and 15s of swings, and 3s and 2s of snatches. Got the work done. Then I spread it out over a 90 minute period. Then to finish within an hour. Then I challenged myself to do the lot in 20 minutes (managed 21 mins, lazy bastard). Then I increased the number of swings to 175. Then I increased the number of snatches to 54. (And 70 seconds of tuck lever hold). I’m still doing it at the time of writing, and those numbers seem appropriate, to be carried out within 25-30 minutes, depending on whether I’ve already trained with a client or not.

So, 1, I’m doing the work, 150+ swings, 50+ snatches, those are absolutes, independent of time taken. 2, Then I’m increasing my work capacity by squeezing the time. You can use this principle with whatever you need to improve. How about 50 Hindu press-ups and 30 pull-ups? First do the work, then squeeze the time. Simples (but not necessarily easy). How about 15 sprints up your favourite hill, with five burpees half-way along the walk back down? And so on. No limit to the possibilities.

So my challenge will make me a little stronger in a nice demonstrable, real-world way, and capable of more work yet I doubt I will see evidence of it in my physique.

Here are a couple of ZC angles then: 1, since going ZC, all of the ruination to my joints and muscles catalogued above no longer gives me any pain. (Mostly!). Phew. I am almost completely pain-free after 35 years of just always pushing through pain to get through my day, let alone my training. 2, while it’s hard to change your physique by adding muscle, you can usually get leaner. I’ve got leaner on ZC, and hope to carry on fine-tuning that aspect. (although I’m happy enough with current levels).

There you go. Training advice for less young ZCers. Hope it helps. Till next time.

Five things wrong with calorie-counting.

We Zcers are only human. Most of us have wanted, or still want, to lose a little or a lot of the excess baggage. Many of us have tried the conventional CICO (calories in, calories out) approach, as espoused by WeightWatchers TM, most doctors, some academics, many reality TV shows, and my mum.

Then people try ‘keto’, or IF (intermittent fasting), or a combination of both or even, gasp, ZC, and as their eyes fall upon their scales, the scales fall from their eyes. I’ll give you a moment to appreciate the pyrotechnic brilliance of that last bit of wordplay.

OK, back to it. Reducing or eliminating carbohydrate from your diet is what will bring about long term weight loss. It’s ironic that many, many people desirous of fighting the flab use exercise as their first port of call, when it is more likely to have the wrong effect.

  1. So the first thing wrong with CICO is that attempting to increase the CO bit – exercise –  is usually doomed to failure. (99%, by some estimates!). Metabolically, there are two main effects of exercise – more resting, and more eating. Our BMR (Basal Metabolic Rate) accounts for a much larger part of our energy burn than we often realise, using up to 80% of our daily energy. Generally, exercising weightlossers think they’re burning more calories than they actually are, and not eating them back up again, when the truth is that they’re not burning much and they are eating them back and then some. Something as apparently innocuous as a double latte could wipe out a moderate gym session, while compensatory resting and calmer demeanour – less fidgeting etc – reduces the BMR burn. We coaches have long said, ‘You can’t outrun a bad diet.’
  2. CICO is often equated to Newton’s 1st Law of Thermodynamics. Many people find it satisfying and sensible to apply a physics concept that refers to closed systems with zero energy leaks to something which is a long way, like about a million miles, from being a closed system, our weird and wonderful human body. ‘It’s simple physics’, they say, as if everything in the world is ‘just physics’. No, it’s physiology. And biochemistry. And biology. You can tell from their names that they aren’t physics.
  3. The delusion that your body operates according to calories alone is off-the-scale stupid. Are you saying that 200 calories of 7-Up and 200 calories of tuna and 200 calories of celery will all be treated the same by your metabolism? Give me a freaking break. As they say. They will not, and cannot. The 7-Up will bring about a huge spike in insulin levels. The tuna won’t cause a spike, and will be absorbed quickly in the small intestine. The celery won’t cause a spike, and will go and sit and stew in the large intestine for a day or so. Your body knows perfectly well what to do with these food items but doesn’t, as Dr Jason Fung picturesquely says, give two shits about the calorie content. So why should we pay attention to it?
  4. Calorie counting is code for calorie reducing. (not insulin reducing). Here’s the thing. Someone who eats a standard western diet and is overweight and lowers their calorie intake while keeping to a standard western diet will still be giving their systems a hit of insulin every day. Insulin prevents fat from being burned. If you’re used to eating 2000 cals/day, your body wants to burn 2000 cals each day, and if you go down to 1500 cals/day but deny access to fat stores then there is a problem. For a while the person loses weight, until their metabolism adjusts downwards to 1500 cals/day, at which point there is no deficit and weight loss stalls. Then the person becomes cold, hungry, jittery, miserable, demotivated, bitter, frustrated and resentful. 99% of the time the person eats above 1500 cals/day and regains fat.
  5. For the past 60 years or so, the bulk of scientific ‘expert’ guidelines on weight loss have been CICO. Over those past 60 years or so, obesity and type 2 diabetes have risen to epidemic proportions. Could this mean that CICO is plain wrong? Yes it could. If you want to lose weight, don’t go down the CICO route, it’s as simple as that.

Till next time.

Is it ok to change your mind about vegetables?

Do you live in, and respond to, a world as it is? Or do you carry on as if you are in a world as you would like it to be? The former requires clarity of thought and integrity. A bit of mental toughness. The latter stems from a reluctance to accept reality.

At certain points, you get a stark choice: look at the evidence, see the facts, and alter or choose your behaviour accordingly, or turn a blind eye to the evidence and facts and logic itself, and find a way to justify continuing with one’s faith or ideology, what one WANTS to be true.

This is a constant in life. A conflict between how feel about ourselves, how we construct our identities, and the harsh realities of the world.

This must happen with religion all the time as one grows up; it certainly happened to me. I was told at my primary school that there was a God, and that He was my boss, basically, and I had to pray to Him and sing hymns to Him. By my early teens, studying sciences at school, and developing my mind, at a certain point it became clear to me that there could be no God. So I altered my behaviour. I stopped saying the Lord’s Prayer. I stopped being afraid of retribution from above if I sinned. In a parallel universe, though, I might have carried on with these behaviours in the face of the evidence, and rationalised it by saying ‘This is all part of His plan,’ for example. I remember this transition from believer to non-believer being distinctly scary, but I was helped by the fact that there was no need for me to identify strongly with being a Christian – I wasn’t letting down family members or a community.

Changing your whole philosophy as an adult and an intellectual, however, is not as easy. Take André Glucksmann, French Marxist philosopher, who stood and cheered in 1968 as students rioted in Paris. He saw his philosophy as the saviour, politically, of a world about to die from the ravages of capitalism, and as a morally and economically superior way of running a country. Yet the deaths of millions under Stalin’s regime alone, not to mention the others in the 50s and 60s in the Eastern Bloc  caused Glucksmann to renounce Marxism in the 1970s. Faced with the choice between humbly accepting the evidence, as a man of intellectual integrity, or continuing to deny it and sliding to ideology and faith, he chose integrity. The world as it was, not the world as he had wanted it to be.

Tim Noakes. One of the world’s most celebrated sports scientists, and now a fervent LCHF advocate; he wrote in 1991, in the 3rd edition of his widely read ‘Lore of Running’ that carbohydrates were essential in large quantities for exercise, that saturated fats would cause heart disease, that the success of a rowing team that trained on beef alone was in spite of, not because of their diet, and much more in the same vein. All the dogma of the 70s and 80s  was there in his book (which I too, embarking my own endurance journey as an athlete, and later as a coach, absorbed in good faith). Professor Noakes was prepared to review and rethink, when the evidence became so strong that he was faced with THAT choice – change your stance or drive down faith highway.

Veganism. There seem to be a few high-profile vegans – high-profile in the sense that they have thousands of YouTube followers – publicly renouncing veganism simply because it is ruining their health. This takes a lot of courage and I admire them for it.

A 2014 study in the USA on over 11,000 people found that 86% of vegetarians returned to eating meat, and 70% of vegans renounced their veganism. Here are a few snippets from Lierre Keith, author of the must-read ‘The Vegetarian Myth’ on what her veganism did to her: ‘For fourteen years, I felt sick, nauseated and bloated… I was hungry. All the time… I had to eat semi-constantly to not feel I was about to die… My spine was coming apart at the seams… I had lost most of my youth to the dull, grey nothingness of depression… I will live in life-altering pain for the rest of my days because I believed and believed and believed in veganism.’

And here’s the daughter of a writer who studies the psychology of vegetarianism and meat-eating: ‘I stopped eating meat when I was 13… For the next 17 years it seemed like I was always hungry, no matter how large my bowl of beans and rice… Eating was a chore, but if I didn’t do it I would die. I was sick of being hungry, I was sick of beans and rice, so at the age of 31…I decided to try eating meat.’

Is it ok to change your mind about things? Yes, yes, a million times yes. Politically, intellectually, scientifically, socially. It doesn’t actually matter that much if you are an ex-Marxist, or an ex-post-modernist or an ex-alt-rightist or an ex-relativist or an ex-Liverpool fan – no-one really cares. But when it comes to rescuing your health, your sanity and your relationships by changing your mind about how best to feed yourself to get through every day of your life in the best possible way, then it really is important. And people close to you DO care about that.

It’s one thing to act with integrity, objectivity and reason. And it’s another to finally  listen to the heartrending screams of an undernourished body and to answer the call.

Randomised training or…randomised training?

As well as having played various sprinty, beat-the-crap-out-of-you team sports to a high standard in the dim and distant past, and having later converted myself into a decent triathlete and runner, I’ve also done my coaching qualifications, had my own coaching practice and worked as a coach educator too. This is part of my ‘self-unemployment’ packet (how I don’t quite make a living!). I’m not saying that I’m an expert, but on the other hand I have a lifetime of playing, training, competing, racing, coaching and teaching. (And I’m still studying and learning). So I love talking about training.

When you get past a certain point in life, your focus switches more to keeping fitter over life’s long haul, or at least what’s left, rather than on certain events to race in, or certain matches to compete in. So every day, almost without fail, even in today’s heat – unbelievably 35 deg C in London, I think – I do a kettlebell workout of some description.

Now then, in the Paleo/keto/LC/ZC world, there is a lot of training talk. How can I train for fat loss on keto? Can I do ultras on ZC? Can I put on muscle without carbs? One of the training modalities with the highest currency is infrequent high-intensity training. Indeed I think this gained ground hand-in-hand with the growth of Paleo. Mark ‘Paleo’ Sisson possibly coined the term ‘chronic cardio’ to show how he felt that regular endurance training, as practised today, is essentially damaging rather than health-giving. True dat.

Training irregularly – randomly – is now  a widely accepted practice, especially with people who have rejected the standard western diet. The rationale is that it more closely mimics the activity patterns of Paleo man: long periods of inactivity or low level activity, punctuated by short bursts of intense activity. It’s better than chronic cardio, but is it properly random, given that we thrive on randomness?

My feeling is that modern humans mostly underestimate the low level stuff. Our natural low level stuff is not to walk 15km carrying a child, for example, as our ancestors may well have had to do on an ‘off’ day, and possibly without food into the bargain. For many of us now, a 15km hilly walk with a 25kg load would be a big ask, worse if there wasn’t an energy bar during and bowl of pasta afterwards. A modern ‘off’ day is more likely to involve a lot of sitting, computer and eating.

Matt Perryman has a fab book called ‘Squat Every Day‘. He’s a (clever) powerlifter, and he rejects the notion of training every two to three days, but training hard. He suggests that it might be best to train every day. And still hard. I came across his book some time after I’d decided I’d train with kettlebells every day if possible, and found that his work seemed to support what I had decided on.

I train according to how I feel, not according to things like completing a 6-week set of pre-planned exercise routines. If you’re familiar with the ‘tonic‘ and ‘phasic‘ muscle classification of Vladimir Janda, and let’s face it, who isn’t, then you’ll automatically assume, correctly, that I focus on strengthening quads, glutes, delts, abs, triceps and rhomboids; and that I focus on mobilising pecs, biceps, piriformis, hammies, calves, etc. And I do so starting with lighter kettlebells and working up to a point where I don’t want to go heavier or do more. This is called autoregulation.

Perryman trains much the same way, but with barbells. And tons heavier, obvs. He *aims* for a pb in the squat every day, in full knowledge that most days he’ll fall well short. By training every day, he reasons that his whole system is forced to respond to the demands placed upon it, and it is the strength or weakness of the whole system that determines the scope of the workout on any given day. This point is game-changingly crucial.

The fatigue and recovery rates of muscles are not the same as those of other soft tissues. We know this. You can train your legs to get much stronger and then, bugger, you get a knee injury. The soft tissue of the knee does not strengthen in the same time frame as the muscles, and with a few recovery days between sessions, the muscles gallop on ahead, leaving the poor cartilage and ligaments behind, ready to be damaged by forces that the muscles can withstand but they can’t.

If you train every day up to a point where the whole system says ‘enough!’, then this dangerous discrepancy is ironed out, says Perryman. I say it too. Listen to me, I’m clever too.

My feeling is that if you add a carnivorous diet into the mix, which is a very supportive way of eating for constant effort, then you get a body that is very resilient. I’d rather have fewer weak spots and be all over fairly strong than to sport gigantic biceps or lats but have tendons ready to snap (and posture distorted by muscle imbalances). And I’d rather BE strong and not necessarily look it than LOOK strong and not necessarily be it. (Although being AND looking strong is quite good!)

So to sum up, Paleo HIT training is probably not very Paleo, really, and also lulls you  and your tendons into a false sense of security. Training ‘hard’ every day goes against current conventional wisdom and yet is almost certainly healthier, and in its own way actually very random due to autoregulation.

Just remembered I was going to mention Professor Noakes, now a LCHF advocate, but with his sports scientist hat on has persuasively argued for a central governor fatigue model based in the brain, as opposed to, yawn, lactic acid making muscles stop working. This supports Perryman’s and my ideas about getting on with it every day. More on Noakes another day, maybe.

Order yourself a set of kettlebells and get going. Come on now. And if you’d like me to discuss more training stuff in future posts, please let me know.

Till next time.

 

Meat. Balls. Your balls.

Testosterone. It ain’t what it used to be. A big study in the U.S. showed that between 1987 and 2004 men’s testosterone (T) levels dropped dramatically. 22% dramatically. Sperm counts have dropped by 60% in the last 40 years according to researchers from the U.S., Israel, Denmark, Brazil and Spain in a study published in the medical journal Human Reproduction in 2017.

Obesity has risen, metabolic syndrome has risen, ADHD has risen, type 2 diabetes has risen…and testosterone has fallen. Sperm production has fallen. Chemicals are quite often identified as the villain, rather than shockingly bad nutrition – one of the sperm count study’s authors said that the fact that the decline was so high in the west must point to chemicals as being the cause. Really? Is this not wilfully ignoring the role of the standard western diet in T levels and sperm count?

We can’t do too much about our exposure to chemicals, but we definitely can do a lot about our exposure to the murderous standard western diet. High insulin levels correlate with lower T levels. Men, listen and listen good. Cut. Out. The. Crap. It’s stopping you from being a man. Women, listen and listen good. Get your males to Cut. Out. The. Crap.

T levels are one of the fundamentals of attraction between the sexes. High T in man = mmmm in woman. (All other things being equal!). Muscularity, leanness from an increase in basal metabolic rate, including reduced facial fat, greater bone density, better blood flow to all parts (including *that* one, whoop), improved mood, confidence – these go with higher T levels. And the opposite of all those points is the result of lower T levels, obvs. Men! Why do it? Cut. Out. The. Crap. Now.

A horrible irony. During a big sporting event on TV, showing powerful men competing or fighting – World Cup, Superbowl, heavyweight boxing, etc – in the breaks there will be ads for Coke, Pop Tarts, Powerade (made by Coca-Cola), beer, crisps – all the stuff that, over time transforms men from chiselled, sassy, high-T young adults into soft, flabby, conciliatory low-T middle managers. Sugar in and of itself has been shown to lower T levels, not counting its contribution via insulin resistance to obesity and hence also lower T levels. Body fat, by a process called aromatisation, can convert testosterone to oestrogen. Not what we want. According to Art De Vany, ‘There are obese men walking around with lower T levels and higher oestrogen levels than their wives.’

And then there’s the demon drink. It seems that we ZCers lose much of our taste for alcohol. I used to really enjoy beer, but now it just tastes unpleasant to me. Wine, pretty much the same. So I almost never drink – I have absolutely no urge to do so. Even when I play a gig, when I used to NEED a couple of beers to ‘loosen up’, I no longer feel the need. So we ZCers are probably ok in that respect. But not the boozy chaps: in one four-week study, healthy men who consumed 220ml (the study’s abstract doesn’t indicate the nature of the alcohol) of alcohol daily, saw their T levels decline significantly after only five days, and carry on falling throughout the study. A standard western diet, plus booze, is a kind of a testosteronicide. And spermicide.

The liver produces testosterone. If it’s having to process alcohol, it can’t do that. A fatty liver makes a crappy lover. (© Huw Davies, all rights reserved. I’d like to thank my writing and production team for helping with the concept).

So lots of sugar, grains and booze wrecks your T levels. Not only that, but the standard western diet is low in saturated fat. Sat fat is what you need to eat plenty of in order to produce more testosterone. Fatty red meat, therefore, is best on so many levels.

Men. Have some balls. Just eat meat. Cut out the rest of the crap. What else is there to say? Sort yourselves out. Please. Women, if you care about your men, show them this post. Or ransack the kitchen and throw out anything that isn’t meat or ZC.

Oh, and all of you, lift some weights, ffs. (More on that later).

Till next time.

I am so cross with you.