People always said I´d find love where I least expected it. I always said they were idiots. I had no idea how to commit to another human being. I could barely commit to reading a magazine, and I wrote for magazines for a living. My specialist subject was celebrities, and my own relationships made their marriages look eternal. I´d never paid a household bill that didn´t mention bailiffs, and my idea of exercise was to go and stand outside a famous person´s house and stare until I´d convinced myself that I lived in it. But my life in LA was happy; free of care and consequence. That was, until I came down to earth - with a bump. So this is the story of how I staggered from partying in Hollywood to bringing up a baby in Piss Alley, Dalston; how I never did find a copy of What To Expect When You Weren´t Even Fucking Expecting To Be Expecting, and why paternity testing is not a good topic for a first-date conversation.