"For a cautionary tale, everybody cites Paul Bradley Carr" - THE SUNDAY TIMES

Month: September 2008

Doctor, Doctor, I feel like a rum and Coke

The last time I went to a GP was in 1999. I was at university and I’d been troubled by a series of irritating heart palpitations which I put down to – well – I couldn’t give a fuck what they were down to, to be quite honest. I was 19 so they were hardly likely to be fatal.

But then they got a bit scarier and my lovely girlfriend-at-the-time, Claire, insisted that I Seek Medical Advice. So I did. Just to shut her up.

As it turned out, lovely Claire probably had a point as the GP sent me straight off to hospital for an electrocardiogram test and, when that wasn’t conclusive, an echocardiagram a few weeks later. And then more and more tests for about a year. Read more...


“So, are you ever going to blog again?”

I know, I know. I’ve just been fucking manically doing things for the last couple of weeks, you know? Two weeks, three states, and about four hundred blog posts worth of bizarre adventures. I mean, that twat in the hat would make five on his own.”

“The twat?”

“In the hat. You see – exactly my point. It’s bad enough that I had to be on my best behaviour that night, but not to have blogged about it the next day… I’m a bad, bad blogger.” Read more...

Harry Truman, Doris Day, Red China…

I’ve been up to so much for the past week or so that if I tried to cram it into a single post, it would read like an extra verse of We Didn’t Start The Fire.

I’m back from the US next week and I’ll tell you all about it then. I promise.

Oh! No! I almost forgot – Lacy finally bothered her arse to review my book (which excitingly is now also available as an ebook from Waterstones.com.)

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