A much trickier customer is the jogger who looks as though he’s just wrapped himself around a large steak and a couple of beers.

This is the man who has got the bug very recently. The other week he almost got out for seven days in a row, and if he could get a clear run at it he’d bowl off three miles without any problems, but the trouble is that from his place no matter which way he turns it’s all hills, and of course the neighbors, who probably couldn’t walk around the block without lying down, are all looking with sneers on their faces, so he cannot stop on those first hills, and boy, that makes it tough going once you’re on the flat, so there’s not much left in the old tank once a couple of miles have been covered, and he’s not boring you is he, because by the look of you a few miles on the road wouldn’t do you any harm, even your eyes are not too healthy, they are sort of glazed looking.

If you are trapped with one of the fresh fanatics there is not much to be done. You could try quoting the playboy story by the doctor who suggested that all that jogging will eventually jar the internal organs so much a jogger’s lungs and heart might suddenly slip down towards his knees.