GEORGE Mycock had decided he was going to kill himself. He had been locked away in his room at Durham University for several weeks, full of shame, bingeing on junk food.

“Every couple of months, I hid in my room for up to two weeks, ordering food or sneaking out at night to a shop,” he recalls.

“I knew it couldn’t continue, so I planned killing myself. I had the date in mind and thought about how I was going to do it.”

George, from Stoke-on-Trent, could hide this habit because he was popular, handsome, outgoing, and hence.

None of his family or friends knew the depths of his despair.

They had no clue that an obsession with attaining the perfect physique had morphed into a self-destructive spiral of compulsive training, followed by binge-eating two large pizzas, a box of fried chicken,

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