Lady Piggott and I thought it would be nice to take a stroll out on Sunday before we put ourselves through the hell that was England versus Germany. As we walked in the park, we noticed how only fat people seem to struggle in the heat of the Dartford sun.

Yes, Dartford's Central Park was where we decided to stretch our legs. I must stress that we chose this location not because we are masochists and needed a punishment fix, rather that we had just visited some friends who recently moved to Dartford after finding themselves on hard times. Naturally, we bunged them a few quid in order that they resist the temptation of the local takeaways and fast-food joints which abound in the High Street. It was indeed gratifying to do our bit in preventing their bodies becoming as repulsively obese as their Dartfordian neighbours.

After a tearful goodbye to our friends we parked the Rolls in west Dartford - the slightly better part of town - and headed off down West Hill and into Dartford High Street. We had a right old chuckle at the many barechested, tattooed residents who call Dartford 'home'. And that's just the womenfolk.

Seriously, the sight of so many fatties in one place was remarkable. Girls in their early teens wobbled their way around as they sucked fizzy drinks through straws and stuffed their gobs with fries. It seemed that these girls all wore clothes which were at least two sizes too small for their blubbersome bodies and I couldn't help but wonder if Primark had put its prices up and was now beyond their monetary means.

Some of these girls were accompanied by feral-looking male companions who would do extremely well in a Mr Puniverse competition. By the time we walked by, these specimens had already removed their teeshirts in order to bathe their scrawny torsos in the sun's rays. Naturally, the baseball caps stayed on, as did the cheap gold jewellery. As is usual for Dartfordians, their inane conversations were smattered with really quite obscene swear words, and on a couple of occasions I had to put my hands over Lady P.'s ears to spare her blushes.

One thing I noticed was how these contrasting body types coped in the heat of the day. Going by the sweat rolling down the cheeks of the fatties, it was obvious that they don't handle the heat well at all. However, the skinnies seemed to thrive and had no problem in bouncing along the road as they puffed on their fags and brought their fighting dogs to heel.

When we finally made it to the park, the story was the same. If you've ever visited Central Park you will know that the flower beds are quite lovely. You will also know that two or three benches by the beds always seem to be taken by miscreant yobbos, dossers passing round tins of Tennents Super, or both. Sunday was no exception and we quickly marched past these dregs of society. Which reminds me, why is it that the Tennents brigade never seem to feel the heat? I mean, they dress in the same clobber all year round, i.e. two or three layers consisting of vest, shirt and jacket along with a grimy pair of jeans and hobnailed boots. They invariably wear hats too and their faces usually sport black eyes, fat lips and/or recently stitched wounds.

After strolling through the park for about fifteen minutes or so, we saw many a sight to put one off one's high tea. Sweating fatties, swearing skinnies, snarling drunks, gangs of spitting kids and underage mothers pushing prams whilst shouting into mobile phones between drags on Superkings cigarettes. Oh, and at least one leashless dog pooping on the pavement. I could go on but realise you may be eating as you read this.

Our trip through Central Park was not a pleasant one but unfortunately not a surprising one either. We thought it best to head off back to Bexley and civilsation as soon as we left the park gates. In fact, even watching England's dismal performance against Germany was preferable.

So, let's look at the evidence. Out of the three main species of Dartford - fatties, skinnies and dossers - only the fatties seem to suffer in the heat of the day.

Come to think of it, have you noticed that whenever we get two or three days of gloriously hot weather, it's always the overweight among us who moan? It's always the fatty in the workplace who says, 'I hate the summer. Give me the winter anytime', or 'I'll be glad when the winter's here. I didn't get a wink of sleep last night'.

There is a lesson in this for us all. When summer arrives, if you are fat and lazy, you will get hotter and sweat more than a skinny person under the same conditions.

As for the dossers' ability to cope in the heat, I can only assume Tennents Super's extremely strong alcohol content acts as a sort of antifreeze/cooler which maintains the perfect body temperature at all times of the day or night - whatever the weather.