Rest in love, Maxwell.

I was just writing a chapter in my book. And before you ask no, it’s not finished. My head hasn’t been in it.

Anyway, I’m at the point where, whilst on bail awaiting trial, I went raving at The Junction in Cambridge. There was a group of us, I’ll ping the YouTube videos below.

We’d been in Cambridge all day drinking before heading to the rave. Our friend Maxwell had jumped on a train to meet us later. He didn’t have a ticket and squeezed himself through the barriers behind a man in a suit. It was hilarious. I had a massive soft spot for Maxwell, he was another BFG. He had a heart of gold and wouldn’t hurt a fly. I remember Jak being a total arsehole one day, and Maxwell just sat and spoke to me for hours. I’d never met a guy who actually wanted to listen instead of talking about themselves.

We got into the rave and Maxwell had already necked a load of pills. He was so funny walking around in his sunglasses doing his little skanks. He was such a larger-than-life character. I won’t go into too much detail, because I’ll save it for my memoir, darling.

But we lost him to an overdose in 2014.

2014 was a year of hell for me. So much went wrong that year, including an episode of psychosis. Did losing Maxwell trigger it? Who knows.

We travelled from Nottingham to Hertfordshire for his funeral, but Jak couldn’t face it, and we didn’t end up going. I tried to go without Jak, but Jak’s mum didn’t really like me back then and told me there was no point if Jak wasn’t going. So, I had to say goodbye in my own way.

I remember crying on the phone to my mum, saying, “Why does everyone keep overdosing?”

My dad. Friends from school. Maxwell. And many more.

Death is so fucking sad.

Rest in love, you absolute legend.

Taken far too fucking soon.