"Ladies and gentlemen. Mesdames et Messieurs. Meine Damen und Herren. Welcome back to the European Games. Tonight we have something special, something you've never seen before. When you watch sports, you see skinny athletes; when you watch a film, you see skinny actors; when you watch advertisements, you see skinny happy people; and when you watch the news, you see skinny Africans dying of hunger. Is nobody interested in the world's 2,2 billion heavyweights? Does nobody respect the biggest 30% market share on this planet? Who entertains the most faithful supporters of our consumption economy? At the European Games, we love big people. For us, it's the consumer who counts. When that consumer is twice as heavy, for us, she counts double.
» We are proud to present you the best athleats of Europe, who will compeat in the heaviest compeatition of the world: the All You Can Eat Contest of the First European Games!"
Operah Skinfree (the famous American talk-show host, contracted to present tonight's show, and a BIG woman too) drops a professional break and receives applause from the stands.
She continues: "All the athleats are in perfect shape, round, and prepared to fight for the medals tonight, here on the romantic terrace of restaurant La Grande Bouffe in Brest. During the game, we'll have unique live interviews with the compeatitors, and that's not all, ladies and gentlemen, because we have another unique element here: our athleats are also the jury of tonight's other game, the Best Pizza Ever Contest. I'll explain to you how it works.
» In the kitchen of restaurant La Grande Bouffe, we have the best pizza oven in the world, the Pavarotti 2000, which you can order during this show with a 10% discount, by calling the number at the bottom of your TV screen. Our 50 cooking candidates, one from each country, prepare and bake their favourite pizzas. The athleats of the eating contest vote and decide the winner. The three best cooks get their medals, but also the honour of being published: for an entire year, their creations appear on the menu of Pizza Slut, the world's biggest and fastest supplier of fast food, and also the official sponsor of this delicious event.
» Pizza Slut is the employer of the boys and girls who serve the meals to our guests tonight, here at the romantic terrace of restaurant La Grande Bouffe. Thanks to their cooperation, you can experience an extra dimension to our show like nobody in the world has ever experienced before: call the number on top of your TV screen, order your dinner for tonight at your local Pizza Slut and… you'll be the first consumer in Europe who can not only see and hear our show but also smell, touch and taste it. These European Games break every record, as you'll see, and hear, and feel, and taste, and most of all, smell…
» Here on the scene, we serve every pizza with a number. Only the computer knows which country prepared it. We cut each pizza into twelve equal points, and serve the next twelve athleats in line one slice each. To keep the All You Can Eat Contest as honest as possible, every pizza has about the same amount of calories. After finishing their slice, the athleats give between 0 and 3 points to the pizza. The average vote counts. The computer calculates the scores, which remain a secret until the Grand Finale of the All You Can Eat Contest. Of course, the guaranteed good health of our athleats is our most important goal; applause, please, for our medical staff…"
That's Doc and me. Doc smiles without joy at the camera; I hide my face behind sunglasses and a Pizza Slut cap.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, it's time to welcome our athleats, in the following order of the Bet To Win bookmakers list of favourites. Our first candidate, 266 kilos, from a village on the coast, close to here, the favourite with a 1:3 bet, the competitor for France: René Albert, far more famous by his nickname… Obélix…
» 282 kilos with a 1:3 bet, the competitor from Germany: Franz Von Fressen from Hessen…
» 241 kilos with 4 euros for every winner, from England: Heavy Heather from Heathrow…
» 230 kilos and 1:4, from Belgium: Eddy the Cannibal from Baal…
» 212 kilos and 1:4, from Italy: Mia 'Mama' Varotti from Milan…
» 239 kilos and 1:4, from Greece: Papa Dopulos, the Colos from Rhodos…
» 198 kilos and 1:5, from the Netherlands: Piet de Bolle from Zwolle…
» 267 kilos and 1:7, from Romania: Lady Marmalade…"
One by one, each competitor enters the terrace and takes hor place behind hor special table (with a semi-circle sawn out, so it fits hor round shape). Each table has a numeric keypad, on which the juror can type in the pizza's number, followed by a hashtag and the score: 0 means «I wouldn't even serve this to my mother-in-law», 1 stands for «quite well», 2 is «very good», and if the juror thinks the taste is «excellent», she gives it 3 points.
A deafening thunder accompanies the countdown. It's not applause or kicking audience hooves; it's the rumble of the empty stomachs of a growing number of athleats, who came prepared to give it their best. Finally, the last candidates come up and Operah announces the start of the event:
" 74 kilos and 1:25, from Slovakia: Peter Sagan…
» 62 kilos and 1:25, from Hungary: 'Hungry' Henry Csere…
» and now all athleats are seated, we give a warm applause for the pizza delivery boys and girls from Pizza Slut, who will deliver each pizza in less than 30 seconds… from… NOW!"
The show starts. Food and drinks are served. The conversation between the eaters and the host during dinner is highly interesting.
"Oh, this is marvellous, delicious, I've never tasted anything like it.", Heavy Heather says while the first point of pizza disappears in her mouth and the first three points for the cook go to the computer.
"Strange people, those Italians.", René Albert says.
Peter Sagan laughs, relaxed, while he licks his fingers: "Pressure? I don't know what that is."
"Of course, this is a real Luis Button dress. One thing is to weigh over 200 kilos, but not knowing how to dress is a completely different thing, dear.", Mama Varotti tells Operah.
"I prefer Prada. It fits my personality.", Operah returns.
Ma Varotti defends herself with a backhand: "Prada is out, dear. The devil wears Prada. A woman has to dress like a goddess."
"I prefer Yellow Yearsey. I have 96 jerseys from that brand at home.", returns Eddy the Cannibal from the baseline.
"Spandex is all I wear. It accentuates my Falstaffian gusto for life. Talking about gusto… This is marvellous, delicious, I've never tasted anything like it." Heavy Heather sends another three points to the computer.
"Is this food really for free? And the drinks too? Unbelievable. Why do they say that a holiday in France is so expensive…?", Piet de Bolle says, and he orders another free beer.
At that moment, a 350 kilos heavy woman leaves the stands, strides towards the tables of the competitors and gives Papa Dopulos a box on the ears: "Shame on you, Papa. Use your knife and fork when you're eating. You behave like a pig!"
"But Mama… The etiquette explains that chicken, corn on the cob and pizzas are considered finger food; it's educated to eat them with the hands."
Mama Dopulos is hard as nails: "You eat with knife and fork like I taught you or I'll personally make sure you're out of this game. You hear?"
"Yes, Mama. Sorry, Mama."
Operah corrects the interruption rapidly, but behind her back, a bigger scandal takes place. All the athleats protest against this tasteless attempt of black humour the pizza delivery puts on their plates: "Is this a joke?" - "I'm not going to eat this." - "Look at it." - "It's black." - "It's burnt." - "Pizza Inferno, tortured in hell." - "This is marvellous, delicious, I've never tasted anything like it."
Operah looks at the name tag of the pizza: "«Paris By Midnight». I suggest our doctor has the final word here…"
Doc closes his eyes, sniffs the smoke signals and puts a good memory on his face: "This reminds me of Leicester… This must be from the English cook…", but he's here to give medical advice and not inside information about the chances of each cook for a medal: "At first sight, I would say: «Eat it; it's also dark where it goes to» but on second thought, I don't want to be responsible if something like this would appear on the menu of 750 million European consumers, and I agree with Greenpeace that we should stop producing toxic waste, so my final decision is… not «Eat it» but «Beat it». This cook is expelled from the kitchen and we replace the pizza with another one."
Applause from the athleats and the audience accompanies «Paris By Midnight» to the chemical and toxic waste container. The next pizza comes up and the contest goes on.
Doc whispers to me: "Did you smell the olive oil from Modena, the buffalo mozzarella and the typical aroma of the oregano from Piemonte? That burnt pizza was the creation of the Italian cook. Someone ordered her to make sure she would not be between the finalists. I told you not to put your money on Italy, didn't I?"
"And not on the Italian All You Can Eat competitor either. Look at the face of Mama Mia from Milan… Green doesn't match well with her Luis Button dress.", I reply.
Doc nods and orders: "Okay. Do the test with her."
As Doc is still handicapped in his movements with his plastered leg, the organization has allowed me to act as his hands and feet, and in this case also as his mouth. I walk towards Mama Mia, who has tremendous troubles finishing her point of pizza with broccoli, tomatoes and white cheese, the colours of the flag of her beloved Italy, and whisper in her ears: "For your info: dessert is a plate of fried red herring with strawberries and whipped cream…"
Mama Mia puts her hand before her mouth, suffers an uncontrolled internal eruption, and runs off to the side. "She goes for the bucket", as it's called in official terms. She's not the only one. Franz von Fressen and Obelíx shake hands on the draw and withdraw from the scene. Papa Dopulos, the Colos from Rhodos, and Eddy the Cannibal follow their example. Piet de Bolle from Zwolle is too drunk after all that free beer to handle his honourable retreat: he closes his eyes and falls from his chair. Fifteen pizza delivery boys drag him to the comfort zone.
Doc explains what happens here: "In general, fat people eat less than skinny people. Fat people are always on a diet, which is a daily training for their bodies to work on less and less fuel. It's like what happens when a shopaholic spends less money: her bank account grows fat. The candidates from Hungary and Slovakia are skinny. Hungry Henry is a marathon runner and Peter Sagan is a World Champion professional cyclist. Those men burn 8.000 calories in one day without any problem. The secret ingredient of a healthy and athletic body is not the amount of fuel, coming in, but the amount of energy, burning out."
"And how do you explain the fact that Lady Marmalade is still in the race?"
"Didn't you tell me she came here with Francesco Gambino? She's running on G.O.D.. She's cheating. There's no other explanation. I told you to put your money on her. The bookmakers give her 1:7. With my 3.000 euros from the Free Kick Goal Scoring and you putting in 3.000 from your future paycheck, we could both have made a 21.000 euro profit, without any risk at all. How long do you have to work for that kind of money?", Doc whispers.
"I told you: I don't bet for money. If I'm betting with a friend, I might win a buck but lose a friend, and if I'm betting against Bet To Win, in the long term, I can only lose. I don't trust these people.", I whisper back.
"That's what I like about you. You're honest. You're the only person I know I can really trust.", Doc says.
Heavy Heather is still in the race: "This is marvellous, delicious, I've never tasted anything like it. What's the number of this pizza? 69? I give it three points…"
Operah snatches the carton beer stand out of her hands: "69, soixante-neuf, is the brand of the alcohol-free beer of our sponsor, Miss, not the number of the pizza. You are not allowed to eat anything you've taken from home. If you do it again, you're disqualified."
Heavy Heather, until now the friendliest of all athleats, falls quiet. A dark cloud creeps over her merry mood. She stands up, lifts her right index finger into the nose of Operah and says, with an icy, low voice: "Give me back my snack…"
"No."
"You're playing with your life. This isn't Truth or Dare. I'll kick you, then I'll beat you. You give me back my snack!"
"Fork you, Dork. It's against the rules."
With one slap of her hand, Heavy Heather breaks her table in two: "Showing how funky and strong is your fight, hey? This is not a matter who's wrong or who's right. This is about food. You don't take away people's food. Give. me. back. my. SNACK!"
When Doc signals me, I put my 1,67 metres and 56 kilos between the two heavyweight WOW Women Of Wrestling champions: "No one wants to fight and no one wants to be defeated. I offer a peace treaty. One Queen-size milkshake, made with fresh strawberries, real cream from Germany, and two straws. Each sits on one side of the table and you start slurping at my signal. When both hit the bottom of the milkshake at the same time, we consider it a draw on the straw, which means that Miss Operah gives Miss Heather her snack back and Miss Heather can stay in the race. If one of the ladies gives up before the finish, the winner takes it all and the loser beats it."
Operah is suspicious: "So if I lose, she's going to present the show?"
"That's correct."
Heather is not convinced either: "That milkshake is made with fresh strawberries? Fresh strawberries in October? That's impossible."
"Canned strawberries with nothing but natural sweet. They taste like freshly picked. I've canned them myself, Miss. You've never tasted anything like it.", I assure her.
Who can resist such an offer?
"Deal." - "Deal."
Both women shake hands while I shake the milk and add the cream and the strawberries. 3,45 seconds later, slurping sounds in stereo settle the draw, but Operah wants to go for the win: "She has the shortest straw. I win."
I look at Heather and her guilty face: "You can't eat your straw, Heather. It's made of recycled paper."
"I'm not eating my straw. I'm just chewing it. It has still some milkshake on the inside. Aren't you going to chew your straw, Operah? Can I have it?"
The peace is signed and the next piece of pizza is served. The race is coming to its end now. Just a final five remaining eaters fill the terrace.
Žemaitė from Lithuania is the first one to throw the towel, the napkin in this case. She stands up, shakes hands with the remaining athleats and wishes them all the best in the contest. The others congratulate her with her fifth place and attack the next point on their plate.
One point later, Heavy Heather from Heathrow, England, retires from the scene. She gives her congratulations to the three remaining athleats, bows and throws a kiss hand to the audience. Under applause, she leaves the terrace, nibbling on her fourth-place chocolate medal.
The audience holds its breath. There are only three more candidates. Each one of them is certain to win a medal, but how far will they go for the gold? The dramatic moment is interrupted by Operah, who has an important message: "I have an important message for you all: 69 Free Export Beer is the official sponsor of this event and they wish you all a happy evening. I have another important message and that is… the final results of the Best Pizza Ever Contest are here, in this envelope. As you all know, the voting stops when we have only three candidates left. This is the moment when we announce the winners. Please come forward for the bronze medal, the third place with an average of 2,759 points per vote… Elfriede Jelinek from Austria for her pizza «Lust!»"
Elfriede comes out of the kitchen, happy, nervous, but also looking as if she doesn't deserve such an honour.
"The second place, with an average of 2,813 points per vote is for the pizza «My Name Is Red», with a topping of three different types of tomatoes, peppers, paprika and chilli powder, and the creator is… Orhan Pamuk from Turkey!"
Orhan shakes flour-covered hands with Elfriede, with Henry and Peter and Lady Marmalade, kisses Operah on both cheeks, giving her a pancake make-up pale effect, and is truly happy with his silver medal.
"And the first place, with an average of 2.833 points per vote, the gold medal for the First European Best Pizza Ever Cooking-contest is for…
» the pizza «Chemical Physics» by Ahmed Zewail from San Marino!"
Ahmed drops a small emotional tear. He didn't expect this. But his modesty earns him the sympathy of the audience and all the other competitors, who came out of the kitchen to applaud and congratulate the winner. The three winners get a seat of honour on the side of the terrace, so they can see the climax of the All You Can Eat Contest.
Operah, with her face still white with flour, takes us back to where we were before the break: "And now we go back to the final of our All You Can Eat Contest. May the best man, or woman, win."
On the three remaining tables, Peter Sagan, Hungry Henry and Lady Marmalade look at each other. Hungry Henry asks and gets the microphone: "It's my experience that a lot of things go without saying, but sometimes you're better off if you say them: I'm full. I can go on eating, but I like this dinner to end well, with a coffee for dessert, and without that nasty feeling of having eaten too much. How do my fellow athleats think about this?"
Peter Sagan nods: "Fair enough. It's been nice, I enjoyed the company, but I have to go to bed early because tomorrow I have to train for the Cycling World Championship next weekend."
Lady Marmalade doesn't say anything. She just lifts an eyebrow.
Hungry Henry continues: "As Peter and I are both gentlemen, I would like to propose a gentlemen's agreement: «Ladies First». I want to ask Miss Marmelady to eat two more pieces of pizza. If she can do that, I (and I hope Peter too) agree that she's the declared winner of this contest. If she can't, she'll get the bronze. Peter and I will do a fast-food eat-off, a race, a final sprint of eating one last piece of pizza; the fastest one wins the silver while the loser takes the bronze. How do you two think about that?"
Lady Marmalade takes another piece of pizza, chews it thoughtfully, swallows, makes a second piece disappear the same way, has not decided yet, and eats a third piece, excusing herself with: "I hate it when good food gets cold. I agree with the conditions, but most of all, because of the time this circus takes. My brother promised to invite me to dinner tonight and I don't want to be late. We go to that great fish-restaurant on the beach, Ordralfabétix."
Peter Sagan also agrees: "On one condition: the winner of the sprint pays for the coffee."
Henry accepts the condition, the two final points are served, Operah does the countdown, Lady Marmalade draws a loaded Carpati Md. 1974 pistol out of her bra holster to shoot the start, and then… the sprint is on its way: Peter takes the lead, the biggest bite, big enough to let the entire pizza slice disappear at once, and Henry takes the slipstream, little bites and chewing fast. They are close. 50 calories to go. 25 calories. 15. Who's going to be first? Is it Peter? Is it Henry? There's the swallow. Mouth open — Mouth open, it's a photo finish… the audience holds its breath, Doc and I hold our breath, Operah and all the pizza cooks hold their breath, even Peter and Henry hold their breath… The only relaxed person on the terrace is Lady Marmalade, who is sure of her first place, eating the four final slices of the gold-medal-winning pizza.
Operah gets a message from the show's director on her earphone and ends all the insecurity: "Winner of the final sprint, with one-thousandth of a second difference, and winner of the silver medal is…
» Hungry Henry Csere from Hungary. Congratulations, and also for Peter Sagan from Slovakia, who wins the bronze…"