AK The Juiceman

That's me with the last "meal" of my three day, juice-only detox. Aside from some pre-teen Catholic fasting that I barely remember, I have never done anything like this before - well, not deliberately, anyway. Three whole days in which I have consumed nothing but water and the juice of fruit and vegetables, extracted with military precision by Tego Sigel's wedding gift to Charlotte Whewell Narkiewicz and I. For no reason other than than I thought it might be interesting to expriment with my body.

In these three days I have consumed more fuit and vegetables than I normally would in a fortnight. Specifically, 3 carrots, 22 apples, 3 lemons, 1 pepper, 1 cucumber, 3 sticks of celery, 3 broccoli stems, 2 beetroots, 2 pieces of ginger, a bunch of parsley, 2 avocados, a bunch of blackberries, some blueberries, a pineapple and half a pound of spinach.

I haven't pooped since Wednesday. Also, according to Charlotte, I haven't snapped at her once either. I have been "infinitely nicer to be around", and my "hair is shinier". It is true. Despite all the rotten stuff going on around me, the hypocritical suckfishes and drooling swine screaming unspeakable gibberish in the house of commons, my mood has not once gone dark. I feel entirely beatific.

And hungry.

Outside of the two hour window that surrounds the thrice-daily juicing I have been uncommonly tired and and hungry and mildly hallucinatory, so it hasn't all been a bed of jolly rasberries. We went to the cinema last night to watch Rise Of The Planet Of The Apes (an excellent movie that I recommend highly) and, for the first time in my movie going history, I did not eat a bucket of popcorn and neither did I drink a bucket of robot sweat (cola). I drank water mixed with beetroot, pineapple and lemon juice. I had to go for a piss half way through AND on the way home, but I felt good, if slightly mental.

Now, at the end of the three days, I still feel slightly mental, and I have a flat tummy where my African child's belly used to be, along with a bafflingly light skull that feels full of candy floss as opposed to rocks like normal. And I really can't seem to get angry - I even tried putting a BBC debate  about Ze Riots Und Da Yoof on. Nothing. I gazed at the sad spectacle for a small while, decided that watching it was increasing neither my empathy, my intelligence, or my understanding of the situation, shook my head at the thing, turned it off, and put my Mr Muthafuckin Exquire mixtape on.

"I really am struck by how nice you are," said Charlotte, who just got in from drinking at the top of The Gherkin. "You're an absolutely pleasure to be around. You're so open and friendly!"

Conclusion of experiment: Juice is some powerful, and potentially dangerous shit. I shall be making further investigations. Next week. Right now, I am really excited about chewing something tomorrow.