IT'S unsurprising that our defensive ruling elite should blame the food they gorge on for their obesity. Scoff if you must - and many have - but our stoutish MPs have a serious beef about the fare in the parliamentary canteen.

Fat, of course, is the last taboo, and here at the Mahogany Ridge we are loath to make fun of the tubbies. This is because of various class and cultural considerations and the very real fear that some of them may even roll around here and, like, just sit on us.

However, as it was ANC MP Sheila Sithole who brought this matter to the nation's attention - squeezed out of the closet, as it were - we feel duty-bound to weigh in (forgive me) on the issue. 

Sithole reportedly informed an induction workshop that the food served to MPs was a health risk. "If you look at members," she was quoted as saying, "they come here nice and slim but they all go out obese. That is very serious, so I want a situation where there is a serious discussion between yourselves [parliament's management] and the kitchen."

And the kitchen, it seems, can certainly dish it up. On a typical day, MPs would tuck into sandwiches, diverse yoghurts, fruit, coffee, tea and fizzy drinks. That's breakfast. The three-course lunches start with soups and salads followed by steaks, chicken, lamb or fish followed by dessert. Should meetings run into the lunch hour, busy MPs have to make do with "finger foods" such as lamb chops, roast chicken, samosas, hake medallions and Russians. 

Newspapers around the world have had a bit of fun with the story. The Times of London, for example, drily noted: "Greedy politicians in South Africa have finally confirmed what their voters have long suspected: the bigger their stomachs are, they longer they have been in office."

Here at home, the Times Live website illustrated the story with a photo gallery of heavies. Labour Minister Mildred Oliphant - regrettable name, under the circs - was one of them. So was Defence and Military Veterans Minister Nosiviwe Mapisa-Nqakula. They weren't all ruling party fat cats, though. Cope leader Mosiuoa Lekota was served up for good measure.

The Economic Freedom Fighters' Julius Malema was there too but I'm not sure whether, strictly speaking, he qualified for selection. Sithole was, after all, making the point that when they started their careers, MPs were lean and slender and they porked out over time. But when he lumbered into the place last month, Jelly Tsotsi looked as if he'd been in the National Assembly for years - a natural, as some have suggested.

Sithole could well have her way with the kitchen. Parliament employs a "wellness manager" - a fashionable position cooked up by the psychopaths in human resources - and this individual, one Buyile Bashe, has promised a review of the menus.

There however may be nothing wrong with the food, and the problem that everyone's ignoring - the Mildred in the room, if I may - is that our lawmakers shovel it in by the truckload and that is why they're so large. No self-discipline, as some of their own colleagues would put it.

Perhaps Professor Tim Noakes could be roped into lecturing MPs about the Banting diet which, he will tell you, given half the chance, has proved to be a lifesaver for diabetics like himself. I'm no expert, but many of our MPs really do appear to be at risk of developing the disease.

I saw Noakes in action at the recent Franschhoek Literary Festival, and Banting is like a religion with him. Thanks to his evangelical fervour, his diet is all the rage in the wealthier suburbs. Cauliflower prices have spiked, shrieking trophy wives battle one another for the last tubs of full-fat Greek yoghurt in Constantia supermarkets and those restaurants that don't do Banting won't be here by spring.

The masses can get in on it, too. Noakes and his team are to release a "budget" version of the best-selling The Real Meal Revolution which will feature meal plans for about R13 a day. That's good news for cattle herders employed by the likes of Agriculture, Forestry and Fisheries Minister Senzeni Zokwana. 

But, you may ask, what kind of meat would you get at that price? Well . . . just think haggis - but without the Robert Burns trimmings. 

Back to parliament. A better idea, maybe, would be to close the kitchen and let MPs feed themselves. As it is, we subsidise their unhealthy diets to the tune of R18m a year, and there is absolutely no reason why they can't brown bag it like the rest of us.

This article first appeared in the Weekend Argus.

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