Did Myleene give me a migrane?
This is a story about Myleene Klass, Jade Goody, Wayne Sleep, a gay bar and me. The other protagonists in this tale may not be aware of their role in my life but it exists, like it or not. And I didn’t like it. Not a bit. Or at least, it was OK at the time, but not so good what they did to me later on. And they did do it to me, let’s be clear about that from the start. It’s not just in my head. Or rather, it was in my head, but not in that way . . . oh, look, let’s start in the middle and go back to the beginning and maybe we’ll make it to the end. It’s what they did, you see. My brain is still not fully recovered. On Sunday afternoon I was walking through the West End with the family and our friend Jeff, who was over from the US. He remarked that the last time he had been in London there hadn’t been so many Starbucks shops. He added that that might be because he had only just started drinking coffee again and was noticing coffee shops when he hadn’t before. I haven’t drunk coffee for
