‘My inner Sid James has been replaced by a benign old gentleman’
In January, I was diagnosed with incurable prostate cancer. On the same day, I started a testosterone blocker. The doctors warned me that this meant my sex life was over.
That night I looked at the first pill, ululating with grief over what I was about to lose. Nine months later, I can no longer remember what all the fuss was about. I boasted to my woke teenager that I am now on the list – LGBTQIA. “Which one are you?” she asked, sceptically. “A,” I replied; for asexual.
