DIARY: Stephacockaliticus day 2

The daily, heart breaking diary of a blogger, suffering bravely with the terminal condition, Stephacockaliticus.

My bird waits for me at the meeting for the sickies.

Why me?

That’s all I can keep asking myself… why me?

I’d much rather it have been my mother or sister or my mate John, or Eddie, or anyone… even their children...

Just not me.

Perhaps this disease, a virulent gum and viral condition, has made me bitter, spiteful, selfish and mean?

I read up about the disease, official known as Stephacockaliticus C, at the popular hypochondriac hangout; HELP ME! I'M FUCKING DYING!!!

It claims that Stephacockaliticus does not affect directly, ones personality, other than bringing on stress.

So it appears I have always been a bastard. Who would have guessed?

The Doctor I saw yesterday suggested I attend the local support group for suffers.

‘Licking Stephacock’.

They meet every Friday night and discuss the best way to cope with the illness, and how to live healthy, thus extend your potential life span – Stephacockaliticus is of course incurable.

I can’t actually go this Friday as I’m going clubbing and will be too fucked off my tits on whiz and a couple lines of charley to discuss healthy living. Maybe next week?

I hope that this diary will in some way act as a cathartic process for me, although to be honest it’s not like it’s gonna fucking cure me so the best I can hope for is it being picked up for a book deal and I get loads of cash and an opportunity to fuck loads of middleclass book groupies.

It’s the little dreams that keep me going.

That’s all for now, I need to lance some boils.

Stay healthy, you luckly bastards.