You know all those blokes you see at beer festivals who seem to drink buckets all day, hardly eat a thing, yet still look ten stone wet-through and would blow away in a mild breeze?

I'm not one of them.

I remember being a svelte teenage, all gymnasting and badmintoning and cross-country-running-ing. A gallon of cider at the weekend, burn it off through the week. I remember student days of Guinness and chips, slowly worn away by the eight-mile round trip to lectures.

Now I'm the wrong side of forty. Drinking some of the best beers in the world. Every night. Having been stuck behind a desk all day. And so it's all gone south.

It's at times like this that I remember the advice given by Dean Wormer to Kent Dorfman:

"Fat, drunk and stupid is no way to go through life, son".

Nothing much I can do about the last two. But the belly's gotta go.

So - here's the challenge. I'm going to shed fifty pounds. For every pound avoirdupois I lose, a pound Sterling goes into a pint pot. When there are fifty nuggets in there, they get given to the Stroke Association.

And I'd like you to help me. I'm going to need some exercise. So... brewers, need a brew-bitch for the day? Publicans, want someone up and down the cellar steps fetching mixers? I'm all yours. All I ask is a generous pledge towards the donation pot.

You can mail me at the address here, leave your details below or Tweet me @simonhjohnson.

I'm not going to stop drinking beer, of course. But from now on, less is more. >