The scene: a car testing centre somewhere in Ireland. A crash test dummy is slouched on the couch, enjoying a cup o' scald and de paper. Door bursts open. Another dummy, who could be described as big-boned, saunters in, writes Kilian Doyle
"Eh, howya. Jaysus, de state of ye. Yer a big lad, aren't ye? Who are ye, anyway?"
"Tex is the name. Tex the Dummy. Pleased ta meet ya, buddy. I've been sent to shake things up around here."
"Ah, right, suren I don' mean to be rude, but de only ting shakin' is yer belly. Been at de drive-in lard factory, have ye?"
"Hey, no need for that, dude, I'm a frontline weapon in the war against terror that's going on behind every dashboard on God's good earth. Ain't ya heard?"
"Arra, terrible sorry abou' de slaggin'. Dat's below de belt. An' in yer case, above it too. Couldna resist dat wan. So what are ye doin' here?"
"I've come to help you in your quest for car safety."
"Ah, some help, eh? Dat's a weight offa me mind, so it is. So how big are ye? About 18 stone? What's that in yer money? About 250 pounds?"
"I'm 220 actually. The stripes and crosses they paint on us are very unflattering. Look, enough already with the fat jokes."
"Yer right, I'm sorry. Fair play to ye for havin' de guts to come over here. Ye must've ayten yer fair share of humble pie before openin' dat door. Yer more of a man dan I'll ever be."
"Ah, but that's where you are wrong, sir. You Euros are catching up on us Americans. Since we crash test dummies were introduced back in the 1950s, our size was based on the average American male, who weighed around 170 pounds. But now that people are getting heavier, car makers have started using much heavier dummies in the US to more accurately simulate crash conditions and make more fat-folk-friendly cars. But it's not just us State-side. Over 20 per cent of you Irish are now clinically obese, so I've been sent to balance the scales, so to speak. You skinny dudes just can't cut it any more. So, who's the dummy now?"
"Jaysus, that's fierce depressin' altogether. It'd drive ye te de fridge. Come to think of it, didn't I read somewhere dey've started makin thicker tyres for youse Amerykans cos yisser too fat for de old ones and are forever gettin' punctures? Dunno what de fuss is abou', sure don't yis have more dan enough spare tyres to go round, eh? Do ye geddit? Do ye?"
"I do. Very good."
"Jaysus, they'll be sending us fat kids next."
"As a matter of fact, my children are on their way over. I've been missing them terribly."
"Arra, ye poor love. Chins up, eh? And what about yer missus? Big girl too, is she?"
"As a matter of fact, she's only 100 pounds and barely over five feet tall. She was made like that because women these days are not only shrinking, but sitting closer to the wheel."
"Ah, like nuns?"
"I have no idea what you are talking about. Listen, buddy, enough yapping, we have work to do. I understand we're testing seatbelts designed for generously proportioned motorists today."
"Jaysus, what're they made of? Girders?"
The dummies are strapped in. Their vehicle is shot down the track at great speed. It hits the bollard at the end, vaporising it. It ploughs clean through the wall, hurtles six miles down the road, eventually coming to rest at a drive-through burger joint. The seatbelts remain intact.
"Well, that was a success, wasn't it? Double cheeseburgers all round, my new Irish buddy?"
"Ah, suren, why not? If ye can't beat 'em, eh?"