What Boris Johnson taught me about living with cancer - and what he must learn

Chowing down on a bacon sandwich Ed Miliband looked how I used to feel after a night out. He seemed confused about where he was and finding his press opportunity breakfast very hard to swallow. That was back in 2010, five years before the WTAF moment came at the hands of David Cameron (with the F standing for food). Thankfully his media team had given him more styling tips than Ed's and his shirt was open and there wasn't a suit jacket in sight. But they must have had their heads in their hands when he started to eat a hotdog with a knife and fork. A decade on I'm still puzzled about why he leant so far forward when eating.

Being the king of the media moment, it wasn't a surprise when Boris Johnson didn't screw it up when I chatted to him while he ate a lunch of liver and bacon while on the campaign trail in Croydon, also in 2015. And the Bojo touch worked because the candidate he backed went on to keep hold of the seat he had originally won back in 2010, and won the constituency by 165 votes. Gavin Barwell lost it by a lot two years later but that's not the point.

Food choices are essential when it comes to political campaigns as they show whether a candidate has anything in common with the constituents they want to represent.

I'll never be a politician but having incurable bowel cancer has made me think a lot about my food choices, and what people think about me.

This started two years ago when a friend said he was upset that I was drinking a Coke in a pub, when most of my friends didn't care about my lack of lager and instead were actually upset that I might be dead soon.

Thankfully nowadays I'm not too bothered about whether people are judging what I'm eating. Instead, I aim to choose something that works for me. This means something that isn't too spicy, because chemotherapy has screwed up the sensitivity in my mouth, and isn't going to make me feel sick, because chemotherapy sometimes makes me nauseous.

Something that always works for me is Mr Punky. And I'd wager that if I did ever find myself on a campaign trail gunning for political glory I would be photographed with the ice cream dessert.

For those of you not familiar with it, Mr Punky is a plastic penguin with red spiky hair which is filled with vanilla ice cream. It is undoubtedly designed for five-year-olds, but it makes 46-year-olds happy and, with the world like it is, that's important.

I first sampled the punky goodness three years before Ed Miliband regretted choosing a bacon sandwich and I wager it made me feel a lot happier than he has since then.

And then after fearing I would not be able to eat Indian food again, because of the chemo and my mouth sensitivity, I found myself in a restaurant last year and the old friend was on the dessert menu.

The waiters laughed at my choice but the photo my friend took of me enjoying the sweet treat showed it was worth it. There isn't much delight in my life, but defying expectations and doing what I want is fabulous.

So I was ready for when it was on the menu again at the restaurant I went to recently for my birthday. I was ready for the laughter from the staff but also to say f*** it. When it comes to food choices, I don't screw it up like Ed Miliband and David Cameron. Instead, I do a Boris and take it all in my stride.

A little glimmer of fun amid many dark clouds is something to be celebrated and if it comes as a £5.95 dessert called Mr Punky in an Indian restaurant, then surely that should be encouraged.

It isn't always this easy to be happy, but life is about snatching these little moments. Boris Johnson is considerably richer than me but I'd be happy to buy him a Mr Punky dessert to kind of relive the campaign trail moment of 2015, in an Indian restaurant not too far from the café we stopped in back then.

What would I talk to him about? Obviously, chat would be all about the Daily Express's Cancer Care campaign. I'm sure he would be shocked to learn that mental health support isn't considered an essential part of cancer treatment, and it simply doesn't happen for most people.

It's crucial that every cancer patient has this support both during and after treatment. They need help smiling as much as possible.