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With the best will in the world (See Solicitors), there’s not a lot of positive things you can say about terminal illness, apart from the fact that your hair might fall out and save you a tidy sum on barbers, shampoo and combs.
Traditionally, when diagnosed with a terminal illness, you’re expected to accept it with stoic bravery, but it’s probably more satisfying to blame the doctor personally, utter a stream of expletives as loudly as possible and wrap his or her stethoscope around his or her neck.
Being terminally ill grants you considerable freedom with regard to your behaviour and it’s perfectly acceptable to take advantage of this by being sick over strangers, putting your feet on other people’s pets and wearing clothes designed by Vivien Westwood.