I've been struggling with the sugar demons during Covid, and it's been a vicious circle of abstinence and abandon.
Nothing exceeds like excess, particularly when dunking biscuits into tea, but there's nothing to be proud of hoovering a whole packet in one sitting. And it has been known to happen in the privacy of lockdown - if you organise it properly.
Unshackled by the judgement of others, a person can really get a rhythm going on the dunk, and in such situations, biscuits vanish.
When they do, I try to look away, metaphorically speaking, because it's not pretty.
Experts call this looking away 'denial', which is the opposite of what's actually happening to the biscuits, so what would experts know, eh!?
This struggle with the sugar demon has intensified during lockdown, possibly because there hasn't been much else to do.
Like the Knights, my resolve swings from goodness to badness each week, and here's hoping they sort that pendulum out against the Bunnies on Sunday.
Like my oscillating faith in our region's sporting flagships, the lack of self control leaves me questioning my strength of character.
They say the true measure of resolve is the ability to deny yourself impulsive gratification.
A person with steely determination consciously weighs up the short term consequences against the long terms benefits and rarely utters the word "cookie monster", unless they are a cookie monster, in which case we need a knew theory.
Some say we over-rate the conscious mind's role in decision making - biscuit pigs mainly.
Their theory holds that what goes on in the unconscious mind is what really matters.
You shouldn't ignore billions of years of evolutionary reflex hardwired into the genes.
The unconscious mind knows these biscuits are not biscuits, they are berries, and gorging is an ancestral response to periods of plenty.
If the unconscious mind was into social media, it would Tweet #destroybiscuits. And so it does. Every time you have a cuppa.
The theory holds up well if you are a gorilla but not so good if you live near a well-stocked supermarket. The ole Tim Tam tree is not really seasonal. Nor the Shortbread Cream vine or Monte Carlo bush.
There are, of course, diversional therapies like baking, but someone please explain to me the difference between eating a packet of store-bought biscuits, and smashing a tray of home-cooked caramel slice.
Virtue signalling aside, they're both evil and heavenly at the same time. One just takes a little longer to prepare.
Ultimately defeating the sugar demon becomes a sweet science boiled down to a simple formula - exorcise by exercise. With summer just around the corner, it's time to lose those Covid kilos.
And so the vicious cycle begins again, or the jog, or the diet. Whatever keeps the body temple from being desecrated everytime you have a cuppa.