I just got out of rehab for the 14th time. Like that smug tosser Wilde said, I can resist everything except temptation. So I thought I’d go to Gaza to get away from the booze and the sweet brown sugar. And to see what those sneaky Israelis are really up to.

Vice and rehab are expensive. Once I had a lot of money, now I don’t. Losing it has taught me pretty much all I need to know. I’ve read a bit, lived a bit, and I’ve been in rehab enough times to trot out that pseudo-therapeutic BS in my sleep. Which is exactly what most of my own therapists did.

I don’t have any qualifications, so I changed my first name to Doctor. Then I applied to a mental health organisation in Gaza. They don’t get many foreign ‘Doctors’ applying to work for them, so they gave me a job straight off. Poor credulous fools.

Glory Days