Filling in…

Hello! Tommy’s mate, Barry, here. The more observant among you may have noticed that Tommy hasn’t posted much of late. The good news is, he’s now finished his treatment – hooray!

The bad news is, it’s left him feeling ill. Very ill. So ill, in fact, that he’s currently pretty much bed-bound, and unable to get here to blog about his latest experiences himself. Rest assured, though, he’ll be back just as soon as he’s able.

In the meantime, I thought I’d write a little about another time Tommy was seriously ill, although on this occasion it was as a result of something far less serious than cancer. It was as a result of this stuff:


Tommy was living in London at the time, but was up visiting me in the Highlands of Scotland. He was actually appearing in a film I had written and was directing, but that’s a story for another time.

After the first day of shooting, we all went out to celebrate at a local pub. There, we had a few very civilized pints, before deciding to try the glittering beverage above. Goldschlager, in case you don’t know, is a sort of cinnamon liqueur, with lots of little flakes of gold floating around in it. According to some random bloke in the pub, the flecks of gold are designed to lightly slice the back of your throat so that the alcohol reaches your bloodstream faster. Sounds a little dubious to me, but then, if you can’t trust random blokes in the pub, who can you trust?

Shortly after our fourth or fifth shot, I turned round to find Tommy had vanished. Just… vanished. Gone. Disappeared without a trace.

I hunted all round the pub for him, checking in the toilets, under tables, and anywhere else I thought he might have ended up. But to no avail.

I broadened the search, stepped outside, then gasped in amazement. The streets… The streets were paved with gold! And vomit! Not necessarily in that order.

I looked round to find Tommy slumped against the pub wall. He was shimmering from head to toe, and for a moment I thought he was being beamed aboard the Starship Enterprise, but soon realised that, no, he was just covered in Goldschlager-laced vomit, too.

It was decided we’d get a taxi back to mine, where we were all staying. Four of us piled into the taxi, with Tommy propped up against one of the doors in the back. As the taxi trundled the five miles back to my house, Tommy’s condition began to deteriorate. Considering his condition at the start of the journey – covered in vomit and semi-conscious – this did not bode well.

Sure enough, about two miles in, Tommy opened the passenger door (while we were travelling at 50mph) so he could puke onto the road. The taxi driver quickly slammed on the brakes, and told us that Tommy couldn’t stay in the cab, as the driver didn’t want to risk having to get the upholstery dry-cleaned.

And so, at 2am, 3 miles from home in the Highlands of Scotland, Tommy and I got out of the taxi and alternately walked, staggered and crawled home. I managed to get him up the stairs to bed, and asked if he wanted tea, toast or anything to calm his stomach. He mumbled that no, he didn’t, then fell into bed.

I went downstairs, just in time for the house phone to ring. It caught me off guard and I immediately became worried. Who would be phoning my house at 3am? I tentatively picked it up. “Hello?” I said.

“Yeah,” said a voice, after a lengthy pause. “I will have some toast.”

Fortunately, he bounced back quick and was ready for filming next day. I know you’ll all join me in wishing him a speedy recovery on this occasion, too. If you have a moment, please leave a comment for him below. I know he’ll be reading them, and all the well-wishes you can spare will be a huge help to him at this horrible time.

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  1. Sorry to hear how rotten you’re feeling, but well done for completing your treatment. I do hope you’re feeling up to blogging again soon – although Barry filled in very well!


  2. Gold spangled vomit – now there’s an image!
    Carry on recuperating, Mr Donbavand.


  3. I very much enjoyed reading this – though glad it al turned out well for Tommy. What a good friend he has in you Barry – continue to take care of him.

    As always, lots of good wishes to Tommy – rest up, get your strength back – get well soon x


  4. It’s things like that which mean I don’t drink these days!!! Hope you’re feeling more like yourself Mr D. Sending positive vibes from God’s own county xx


  5. Glad to know things are ticking along in the right direction, albeit slowly. Sorry to hear the last part of all this has been so tough…. but just remember, that’s what it is…the LAST part! Before you know it, you’ll feel a teeny bit better every single day.
    Best wishes to you and the family,
    Angela (&Jude)


  6. I remember an evening many years ago when I lost the ability to stand up after drinking Goldschlager.
    This post made me chuckle. And sad too, sad to hear that you are
    feeling so grim Tommy. The treatment is over, it will have knocked the stuffing out of you. Get some strength back and look out those pointy boots…time to start kicking cancer right up the arse!
    Wishing you strength and good wishes.


  7. Have missed your blog but this tale was rather amusing and I am sure there are many more such escapades in your past! What a friend eh? Sorry to hear you are confined to bed and hope you are up and about soon. Take care, thinking of you.


  8. Tommy – if you could survive Zombie Love Stories, you can survive anything! Tommy’s story was the easiest of the three to film from what I remember- and I don’t remember much apart from the excellent sound recording that went on.


    1. I think I still have a video of the trailer saved somewhere if you’d like me to share it. Take care Tommy!


  9. You see, Tommy, this is what I meant by different friends for different areas of help. Mind you I do wish i hadn’t read this over lunch. Gold sparkly vomit…?
    So pleased that your daily visits to the hospital have finished and you can just concentrate on lots of rest. Virtual hugs x


  10. It feels wrong to laugh when you’re so poorly Tommy but then again, it’s wrong NOT to laugh at gold sparkly vomit..tee hee hee – hope you are on the up SOON xxx


  11. GOLDSCHLAGER. now there’s a blast from the past 🙂 Hope you feel better very soon!


  12. Hope you are feeling better soon Tommy. I think a gold laced beverage to perk you up should do the trick 😉


  13. My wife is an Art Therapist working with cancer patients here in Belfast, and she illustrated two books – Who will cut the grass? and Who will brush my hair? – for children.

    The only thing is that they’re aimed at children of patients with terminal cancer, which I am so thankful is not the case for you, but if you ever want them we will certainly put them in the post to you.

    Hope you’re feeling a lot better soon!


  14. Just to say ‘thinking of you’, Tommy. Appreciate that’s a bit of an over-used sentiment, but just wanted to say you’ve got an army of people out here doing exactly that at the moment. You’ll be out the other side of this sh#tty time one day soon.


  15. Glad the treatment’s over. Hope he feels up to blogging again soon.x


  16. Feel better soon Tommy and bloody well done for finishing your treatment. Sending you lots of love
    Tracey x


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