I have always enjoyed a hearty appetite and my three sons were renowned at school as trenchermen of their generation. "Why can' t you eat like the Gouriets?" Matron would bemoan of various skeletal sprigs of manhood. At last I have discovered a possible reason. Perhaps lurking in the depths of our being is a gene which stems from a notorious forebear.
In 18th Century France there lived a rich landowner, known to all as 'Pere Gourier'. In a land where delights of the table assume priority over all but those of the bed, as Pere Gourier reigned supreme in his chosen pastime. He indulged in murder for amusement, but not by conventional means; such as weapon, poison or suffocation. Gourier wined and dined his selected victims to death with notable 'sang froid' and entirely legally.
Each 'guest' was gorged daily with rich heavy food at the most expensive and cerebrated restaurants in Paris, such as the 'Brebant', 'Vejour', 'Tortoni's' and the 'Cafe de Paris'. Soon the maitres d'hotel and waiters all knew what Pere Gourier was about, but there was nothing they could do. He would even boast of his exploits. When a waiter enquired of a recent dining companion, Gouriet smiled sardonically and replied: "I buried him this morning. He was nothing. I got him in less than two months!"
Others however were made of stronger stuff. His first guest died of a stroke induced by alcohol after six months. The second survived for nearly two years before succumbing to a surfeit of foie gras. Next day, dining alone in the 'Bonvalet' restaurant, Gourier watched his victim's cortege passing by. He shook his head and was heard to observe sorrowfully; "To think I bought him a new hat for his birthday only three days ago!"
This tale of gluttony and greed continued at a rate of about one victim a year until no less than eight had perished by the fork. Gourier then chose for his ninth 'guest', a redoubtable opponent by name Ameline. He was reputed to have hollow legs which served as reserve stomachs and he certainly lived up to his reputation. For two years these two champions battled daily at the table; at the end of which Ameline looked healthier then ever and had not put on a single pound. Pere Gourier began to feed him only the richest and heaviest dishes which even he had difficulty in digesting. However Ameline continued to consume several helpings at a single sitting without pause and with obvious relish.
Gourier vowed to kill Ameline even if he spent his entire fortune in so doing. It amused him that his intended victim was second assistant to the public executioner. However it is also probable that Ameline, knowing that Gourier could not be brought to justice for his crimes, had decided to try to beat him at his own game. He resorted to disappearing for two or three days to purge his body with castor oil and other laxatives. His ploy worked. Pere Gourier imagined he was engaged in executing his public duties in various parts of France and Ameline did not disabuse his host. The executioner would engage in lurid and bloodthirsty descriptions of 'Madame Guillotine' at work.

The end came abruptly one night in the 'Cadran Bleu', Paris's most expensive restaurant. Ameline was tucking into his fifteenth sirloin steak, when Gourier struggling one steak behind, suddenly went deathly pale and slumped forward into his plate. The gourmand murderer expired with an sardonic smile on his lips, perhaps feeling it fitting he had met his just dessert at the table! Or did his gentle origins finally demand that he fall on his fork?