When I don't get my bath I take it out on the slaves

Hello hello pirate crew,

Wowzers. A whole three weeks since I last posted. Such unacceptable behaviour. My excuse doesn't even exist, I'm just a terrible and forgetful person who lives on planet SPACE LORD MOTHERFUCKER. Something like that. It's really hot today and as we all know CONSTANZES DO NOT LIKE HOT so I am eating cold rice pudding in a desperate attempt to bring down my core temperature before I go out and murder everyone ever. Even the dead people. And the people that haven't even been born. Ambrosia should be proud of themselves, they've sort of inadvertently saved the world. CAPES. LIGHTS. MIDNIGHT CUSTARD BATTLES. Ssh me.

It's been a weird old time. I'm sure you all saw that the wonderful Steven Sutton passed away this week. It was all over the papers, and quite rightly so. Such an amazing young gent, words really can't summarise it. Such a plethora of achievements and yet so down to earth. I think he was extra special because his message was both very genuine and very simple. But yeah. It's better to burn out than to fade away and he went out with a three million pound bang. I'm sure he's having fun up in the Happy Hunting Ground where all the sleeping cancer crew live. It's just a very long nap, death.

Oh, death. Death death death. Dead dead dead. Why is everyone so scared of it? I can understand being scared of other people's deaths, but not your own. You can't miss yourself. I guess other people can miss you maybe. I don't know. Jeez, think of how much peace and quiet you'd all get if I snuffed it. Think of how much peace and quiet I'd get. My head, it never shuts up, seventeen trains of thought ten million hours of the day. I like it though. I like the chaos. I want to stay in the chaos. Bowling balls and broken backs. Life is sand running through your fingers, best build a sandcastle.

And my health? How has the Constanze been over these past three weeks. The Constanze monster. Monster-oso. Aside from the rib and leg pain and sleepiness, nothing exciting to report. Only a couple of weeks to my next clinic appointment now, I doubt there will be much to discuss although I will bring up how many little things seem to be going wrong. And they'll probably book me in for my first Southern bone marrow extraction. My first proper visit to University College London hospital! I say proper because I'm not counting that semi-emergency time when I came back from Macedonia and everyone was doing their nut in because I'd had a surprise period. My first official trip. My first deliberate trip. I can compare and contrast Northern Vs Southern extracting techniques! So exciting. Check it's all ticking over well and bueno.

I went to Bury Park yesterday (the part of Luton that's supposed to be some massive Islamic extremist ghetto hotbed) to buy cake and amazingly enough it was really nice and I had a great time and everyone spoke English to me and I looked at some nice dresses. Turns out the Daily Mail was wrong, who'd have thought, eh? I'd like to move there but it's just a little too far from the train station. I WANT FALOODHA ON MY DOORSTEP. I got laughed at there and that's always a good sign. But I'm not sure why. I was being served in one of the many Kashmiri/General South Asian supermarkets and I was buying some lassi (amongst other more unusual and crazy things) and there were three elderly guys behind the desk who said "you like lassi eh?" and I said yes and then they laughed. WHY IS THAT FUNNY. Have I made some terrible cultural faux pas? Oops. ALSO the most insane thing is that everything South Asian that's banana flavoured is GREEN not YELLOW because everything that is YELLOW is mango flavoured. This blows my mind. Banana is not green. Can't. Handle. Need. To. Sit. Down. Oh wait, I am.

Eurovision was also amazing. Predictably I got very overexcited and had far too much fun. I am a moron. SOZ NINOS.

Anyway, that's enough ramble bullshit for one day. There's some jalebi and vadai and vodka with my name on it. So rock and roll. Shit's good. If only I could quit this whole cancer thing. Shit would be even better if I didn't sleep through the vast majority of it. I JUST WANT SOME ENERGY DAMNIT. Chemotherapy, the saviour and devil of my life. I sold my soul to the Dasatinib. Swap your alertness to evade the grave. Gotta keep on evading. Do a Sandshrew sand attack. Sorted kidz.

I am digressing. I must go, for my Luton needs me. Good evening my lords and ladies and the Venerable Bede,

Constanleyknife the Great xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx (lots of kisses because I'm a slaaag)

P.s I ate all the rest and now I'm gonna eat you.

P.p.s I got given another baby yesterday. Why do I look so trustworthy? Always put your faith in the green haired mental? I was on the bus and this lady was getting off and just threw her baby at me and asked if I could hold him while she took her pram off the bus and assembled it. FREE CHILDREN. I should have seized my moment, save me all the hassle of IVF and shit later. It was a lovely little thing too, proper well dressed and super well behaved. I was almost broody. ALMOST. But nah. Just nah. As cute as he was I like stamps and shoes more. SORRY EVERYONE NO BABIES IN MY FANNY TODAY.

P.p.p.s Acorns.

P.p.p.p.s RUMOUR HAS IT that I might not sleep with my eyes open any more. I will conduct more research. By sleeping with everyone and seeing what they say. Does this mean my eyes have shrunk? Do I now have normal sized eyes? Or have my eye sockets suddenly got larger? Can eye sockets get larger? I feel like I may have noticed bones stretching. Probably. Maybe they did it in my sleep so I wouldn't notice. So considerate. My life is like one big episode of Colombo. One more thing...

P.p.p.p.p.s You can't ignore my techno.

P.p.p.p.p.p.s I am torn. I am having a MORAL DILEMMA. Basically, as I've mentioned before I get approached loads for fashion/modelling crap, something that I'd hate doing but would get MONEY for. Money means SERBIA. Lots of sexy Serbia. Problem is, I can't really sell my soul because as previously stated I sold my soul to chemotherapy. But if I don't have a soul already should I do it? I think it would destroy me. I hate that whole industry. I find how much a lot of women hate their appearance really upsetting and they just piss petrol on the fire. Everyone's sexy. Their own special sort of sexy. Like me, I'm the sort of sexy that drops bits of pizza down their bra, forgets about them and will usually still eat them later. That's sexy, right? RIGHT??? Pretty sure it is. Everyone loves ham and pineapple boobs.