Ian Few – No Beer or Bread

Ian’s Little Ditty

In a world of canvas and sturdy stakes,
Stands Ian Few, a man of bold fates.
A marquee master, his job well-known,
Yet burdened by weight, a challenge is sown.

Too fat, he says, with a determined gaze,
Embarking on a journey, changing his ways.
Tents rise and fall, like dreams in the night,
A transformation sought, a daunting delight.

No more the ale, the chocolate, the bread,
He bids them farewell, a farewell well-said.
In the crisp silence, a resolve takes flight,
Ian Few’s quest for a healthier light.

The gym’s iron embrace, a daily regime,
Lifting the burdens, like a hopeful dream.
Two and a half stones, a mountain to climb,
A year unfolds, measured in pant sizes.

A call to arms, a plea in the air,
Ian asks for support, for those who care.
Donations to charity, a noble cause,
Lending a hand, applause and applause.

In the sweat of the gym, determination brews,
Like a stormy sea, where strength renews.
Through the echoes of cravings, the struggle within,
Ian Few battles, a fight to begin.

So here’s to Ian, a hero in the making,
In tents and marquees, his spirit awakening.
Through selfless pursuits, a journey profound,
In the quest for health, where dreams are found.