Being able to respond with sarcasm within seconds of a dumb comment or question is the sign of a healthy brain. I’m not being rude. I’m just getting some much needed exercise.

When diagnosed with incurable goddamn brain cancer on Valentine’s Day** I knew, no matter what, I’d make it to my blue-eyed boy’s leavers ball (that’s graduation to Americans).

**Thx Cupid you dumb dick… You’re supposed to stick the arrow through my heart not my brain.

Anyway…

Not only did I make it to the ball but I drank, ate, socialised, went in the photo booth 32 times, attempted the bumper cars, but M dragged me away hissing ‘Have you forgotten you’ve got a massive fucking hole in your head?’

I enquired to our housemaster, ‘Sir, please be honest, is my kid in your top 10 naughtiest kids ever?’

‘Oh no’ was his reply.

I sighed waiting for something further.

Housemaster transitioned to stern teacher face and added ‘He’s in my top 3!’

YES!!! My blue-eyed boy’s going far in this world.

So my ultimate goal was not to expire prior to midnight. I lasted ‘til 2am… Screw you Cinderella.

I needed to get the most out of the beautiful gown gifted by my gorgeous girls.

We spent the weekend with bestest friends. One of whom travelled from Aus that am, played a round of golf that pm, then drove 200 miles to get pissed with us. That’s friendship!

The evening consisted of delicious lamb, erotic sexual poses against an old rover and Cards Against Humanity.

We laughed, cursed and spewed hilarious profanities. I didn’t inherit my potty mouth… I learned it from my foul-mouthed friends.

My baby sis’ and I visited the cemetery and left flowers for our beloved grandparents. The only adults who showed me unconditional love as a child.

Dinner on a lake and another debouched night followed.

Then a smart party hosted by Lord and Lady Q which aptly ended in a face licking competition. I’ve yet to catch Lord Q, however her Ladyship’s always up for it.

Then to London for 4 more nights of love.

Love arrived from Bermuda aka my gorgeous Guru and Godson laden with the bags of green cow fodder she still tries to cram inside me.

Next, love and lunch from Sussex. The wonderful women who I always wished could be my real mummy and sister.

Dinner on the Thames with dearest friends where I attempted a citizen’s arrest after an enibirated youth pissed in the river.

A 6 hr liquid lunch in Notting hill. Old friends, new friends, crackheads wandering by… One of whom became aggressive/racist/way too opinionated …

So I took matters into my own hands and stood up, lifted my hair and declared…

‘Seriously? You think you’re having a tough time? Look at this… I’ve got goddamn fucking brain cancer and weeks to live (slight exaggeration). Shut the fuck up, sit down and have a drink… Or fuck off.’

You can’t waste time trying to understand idiots. Unless you’re the fuckface whisperer, which I’m not.

An old acquaintance wandered by and stopped to interrogate me on the use of profanities in my blog… I replied ‘Did you know, the clitorous has 8000 nerve endings, but still isn’t as sensitive as some of the cunts I’ve met over the years.’

Whoops 1 less reader. I spend a lot of time realising I should have stopped talking 10 minutes ago.

Later that night something triggered the ‘funny turns’. It’s been two drama-free months then suddenly… bam! Extended periods of deja-vu again.

Rest was ordered or M would have strapped me to the bed (and not in an S&M kind of way). It seems I’ve become a pro at choking on air, falling up stairs and tripping over nothing.

Once up and about I purchased 27 lottery tickets… It’s the only way I’ll get to live in my favourite Holland Park postcode.

A final post-gay-pride supper with two gorgeous men I’d married had they not been gay.

Followed by a farewell lunch with beloved friends and hugs with my blue-eyed boy before heading to Heathrow for the long haul back.

So there you have it. I’m living proof that you really can fuck brain cancer and live a carefree-ish life… Well for 2.5 weeks anyway.

Next week the motherfucking toxic chemo bandwagon will be rolling into town to start the next chapter of thundercunt cancer treatment.

Bring it on bitch.

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‘A naked woman in heels is a beautiful thing. A naked man in shoes looks like a fool.’ Christian Louboutin

Lately my life’s become a set of fucked up life changing events separated by intermittent snacks and naps. 

Hence a little snack I had yesterday ended up going a bit Pete Tong.

After devouring a bountiful amount of fine Swiss chocolate I retired upstairs for a nap.  

It’s true that I’ve always been a person who wants to do a lot of stuff most of the time..  

But lately I find myself trapped in the body of a person who wants to do mostly fuck all most of the time.   

So I was surprised when en-route to my bed I randomly had the fancy to re-organise my shoe closet.

Perched on the floor whilst dispensing unwanted footwear to charity bag..  That old familiar déjà vu feeling wafted over me..  

Memories of dancing shoes, workout shoes, party shoes, fuck-me shoes.. there’s stacks of memories in shoes.  

And then it happened.. I experienced a pre-surgery-parallel-universe-out-of-this-goddamned-world seizure.  

Proof that I’m a hardcore hypochondriac..   And never do anything half ass. I also didn’t have any canine rectal valium at hand.

An urgent call was made to my gorgeous angel friend (aka my surgeon’s PA). 

She expedited hospital action where a nice man with a shiny beard rolled me into the CT for a swift scan. 

Next up.. Blood works and ouch.. Turns out it was Nurse Nancy’s first day and I was her first ever patient but luckily she had some deliciously distracting tattoos.

Home to await results. 

CT confirmed brain’s looking dope* post Bambi and my blood’s made of sterling stuff.   

*I’m reaching out to younger audience hence use of this new word preferred by teenagers to express excellence.

So there’s a little hiccup in the remedying of my ailment ..  My cocktails require spicing up.. And I need to abstain from all caffeine and find a new vice!  

Luckily one of my favourite vices is flying in on a jet plane in a few days time. 

Entering a phantasmagoric dream world

The week that followed is a blur now and I look back and wonder why I didn’t go to the ER sooner. I was having a ‘funny turn’ every other day or so and it was so surreal it didn’t feel real.

However, by the weekend I was reaching record breaking heights and by the end of Sunday I had managed to have 7 ‘funny turns’.

Thinking that Monday’s would be the quietest day in the ER (how wrong were we – it turns out everyone saves up there aliments over the weekend) off we went.

We dropped Reggie with our lovely doggy sitter and as I was explaining to her the purpose of my ER visit – another ‘funny turn’ managed to pop out of me. Feeling terribly flustered I stumbled back to the car and we headed west. Obvs I wasn’t driving.

I won’t bore you with the next 14 tedious hours!! But after a CT scan, blood samples, urine samples, more blood samples, annoying heart monitors and lots of ridiculous questions I was finally moved from my dubiously stained gurney in the ER and admitted to the hospital. I surrendered to my hospital bed at around 3am. Just in time to catch a fascinating documentary about the life of the fabulous rebel princess – Her Royal Highness The Princess Margaret, Countess of Snowdon.

I was told I’d be woken at 6 am by a team of highly trained technicians who would hook me up to a brain monitor called an EEG. That didn’t happen – at 6am I was woken up by a brown tray of brown oatmeal, with brown coffee and brown eggs. No thanks.

But then around 9ish a very nice man arrived with lots of machinery, sticky things and cables. A lovely nurse proceeded to stick the sticky things to my head with some sticky KY Jelly like substance. To say I looked like a beauty school dropout at this point is a bit of an understatement.

Whilst all of this was happening I was furiously requesting that everyone get a move on because as far as I was concerned, I still had a flight to catch back to London that night. I had places to go, things to do, people to see and no time for this unpleasant inconvenience.


HRH Princess Margaret