Sophia Money-Coutts: How do you cater for tiresome guests on Ozempic?

A tricky one when every other person seems to be shooting up these days — so let’s start with a cautionary tale. A couple of months ago, I had a gang of friends for lunch. Nice friends, fun friends, so I spent a fortune on beef fillet. Everyone arrived, wine was uncorked, we sat and ate. Everyone, that is, apart from a guest who pushed the beef around her plate as if she was playing a private game of chess with it.

‘Didn’t you realise? She’s on Ozempic,’ another pal told me later. Huh? This woman isn’t diabetic or remotely obese. She’s simply vain and, dare I say it, a tiny bit lazy — yet another Dorian Gray spending hundreds of pounds a month on a private supply to drop a few pounds before the summer.

Meanwhile, an exasperated New York friend says she’ll no longer go out for dinner with anyone using the drugs — which means she barely goes out at all, now. ‘Everyone’s on it and it’s so boring because they ignore whatever expensive piece of steak that’ve ordered and you still split the bill at the end. It’d be less irritating if they simply admitted they were taking it and didn’t order.’

These days, it’s de rigueur to quiz people about their dietary requirements before they come for dinner — any gluten issues? Dairy OK? Are you still on that peculiar diet where you only eat purple vegetables on alternate days of the week? ‘No wheat, dairy or added sugar, SORRY I HATE ME TOO,’ replied a neurotic friend recently, after I texted to check what she could eat in advance of a Tuesday evening kitchen supper.

So perhaps the solution is to add fat jabs to the lengthy list of possibilities. ‘And can I just check: are you taking Ozempic?’ That way, they can discretely confess, and you can duly dole out the sort of minuscule helping that wouldn’t satisfy an ant.

Alternatively, if you suspect someone’s taking it and they’re coming for dinner, don’t cook beef fillet. A bowl of pasta, perhaps, or something made largely from chickpeas.