The letter is quite clear.  No food in the four hours prior to your scan.  Two slices of reheated left over pizza at 11.30am then.  No problem.

Then the man came to take away my shiny BMW for repair, leaving me with a less shiny Corsa.  And no petrol.

So I commenced my trip to Hudersfield world of scanners with a visit to the local Morrisons petrol station.  £6 of petrol.  They’re getting this thing back with an empty tank.

As I went to pay I spotted the Revels.  All shiny packeted and 82p off.  And, without thinking, I paid for them.

With even less thought, I scoffed the lot on the way to the hospital.  Not for a moment did I consider this to be a meal.

Even as I went through the polo mint CT scanner, holding my breath on request, trousers halfway down my legs allowing the machine a clear view of my pelvis, I thought nothing of it.

As the scan drew to an eventual close, one member of staff asked me what I’d had for lunch, as they could see it on the scan.  “Pepperoni Pizza a good four hours ago” I replied.  She didn’t look convinced.

It wasn’t until I got into the car and saw the empty Revels packet that I realised what had been seen.  Imagine the series of brown dots scattered around my insides and what the radiologist is going to make of things when the report gets written.

If they match cancer clusters Oncobabe is going to give me no more than a month to live.

Not my smartest moment.

Midnight Call