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In the first of a series of blogs, Ben Dirs outlined why he set upon the path to fitness. In the second, he described his early struggles. In the third, all the hard work was starting to pay off. In the fourth and final instalment, we discover just how far he has come.

An odd thing happened the other day: an old friend, not noted for his love of healthy eating, called me from a supermarket to ask what he should buy for dinner. From bafflement to mild curiosity, suddenly my quest for fitness is all anyone wants to talk to me about. And as they pump me for tips and pointers, I can sense what they are thinking: if this muppet can pull this off, then maybe I can, too.

Not everyone has been supportive. One work colleague who got sucked into my world of no carbs, spinach-based meals and twice-daily exercise accused me of ruining his life. Let's be honest, it couldn't have been much of a life.

In addition, while my first two blogs garnered an almost unanimously positive response, negativity had seeped in by the third. It is an insight into the British psyche - as someone pointed out, everyone is happy to get behind a fat bloke, but once a fat bloke starts becoming a thin bloke, the knives come out.

From the outset, I said the point of these blogs was two-fold: first, to get myself in some sort of nick; subsequently, to show that anyone else can get in some sort of nick, too. Writing about oneself is self-indulgent - that is a given. But the underlying hope was that my experiences would resonate with the reader: the bloke who is getting married in the summer, the woman with a beach holiday booked, my mate who is embarrassed to take his T-shirt off in the marital boudoir. You know who you are.

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It is difficult to think of a sport with the capacity to make people look as foolish as boxing. And not just the participants. At Saturday's post-fight news conference at the O2 Arena, some of the journalists looked as sheepish as James DeGale.

Intelligence is not a trait always associated with the fight game, which is not surprising: even by boxing's standards, the hot air exhaled by DeGale before his shock defeat to George Groves was enough to singe the hairs of your nostrils.

But Groves demonstrated intelligence in spades to upset the odds and , who he also beat as an amateur in 2007.

The pundits thought there was no way the challenger could prevail fighting the way he did. And they were probably right. So Groves rewrote the blueprint.

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According to some wise heads in the British press, over the last couple of months has demeaned boxing. They might be right, but only because it has been so much kids' stuff.

DeGale's list of insults is straight from the playground. He has mocked Groves' dress sense, accused him of having bad breath and dubbed him "that ugly ginger kid". Over and over again. For the record, an entirely unscientific poll of the women in my office revealed Groves is better looking. Ner-ner-ner-ner-ner, in your face DeGale!

But the nature of the verbals is entirely in keeping with the fight itself. DeGale may be defending his British super-middleweight crown at London's O2 Arena, but he and Groves have had only 22 professional fights between them. Whatever the hype-merchants want you to believe, compared to domestic grudge matches of the past, this one features little more than a couple of excitable pups.

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In the first of a series of blogs, Ben Dirs outlined how and why he set upon the path to fitness. In the second, he described his early struggles with his new regime. In the third, he says all the work has started to pay off.

I am not a vain man. I once arrived at work, having travelled from Essex to west London, only to discover in the lift I had dried snot streaked all the way across my face. The moral of the story? Always look in the mirror after getting out of the shower.

I don't use fake tan, I don't wax, I don't wear hats. But last week, I must confess, : me and my two biceps in the most bizarre of love triangles. I would like to think it was an ironic gesture, but I am not sure it is possible to be ironic with oneself.

We live in an instantaneous world and we no longer savour anticipation: that feeling of picking up a roll of film from the chemist, of waiting for that first phone call from a new girlfriend before the days of mobile phones. And it is the same with getting in shape: it takes time and it can be tremendously frustrating.

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In one small way, the fact before against Wladimir Klitschko in July can be seen as a blessing. Our 'Enery, a man already embittered by a sport that bears little resemblance to boxing in his day, would have been thoroughly appalled by the attendant hoopla.

In 2009, when Haye almost fought his Ukrainian rival before the bout fell through, Cooper's fellow south Londoner turned up to a press conference wearing a . Cooper, rather more grounded than Haye, labelled the stunt "cobblers".

"He doesn't need to do this sort of publicity to put bums on seats," added Cooper. "Rather, I think he's driving bums off seats with his behaviour."

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