Flippin' Nora, as some north country folk sometimes say on television programmes broadcast before 9pm.
It's a good job my taxes were available to pay for all of the special equipment necessary to lift him out of bed and into the tax-paid-for ambulance, so they could take him to the government-financed hospital to sort him out.
No doubt after a stiff comradely talking-to he will desist from the eating behaviour which got him into this state, and no doubt refuse all supportive welfare payments which would otherwise enable him to remain like this, until his heart finally gives up.
Yes, let's thank the welfare state for taking such good care of people and for helping them escape the otherwise inevitable consequences of their own short-sighted pleasure seeking, and for funding both the pleasure seeking and the medical means necessary to keep pursuing the noble aims of pride, avarice, envy, wrath, lust, gluttony, and sloth, and thus escape the intolerable religious strictures of the medieval age.
Thus is the dream of socialism achieved, one human being at a time, by ultimately destroying each life through cradle to grave welfare and turning each happy independent person into a miserable dependent slug, trapped inside a body filled with insatiable base desire.
Hail Karl Marx.
Which reminds me, it's almost time for my evening cocktail.