A Golden Age of Cancer – With Rusty Edges

AI’s cracking tumours like spy codes and your immune system’s in a cape; yet thanks to NHS delays, postcode lotteries and a national beige food fetish, this golden age still arrives by fax.

Not long ago, I was on the phone with someone who’d just been diagnosed with cancer. Understandably, they were in full panic mode, rattling through wills, funeral playlists and whether their cat would inherit the flat.

I told them something I’ve been preaching like a half-baked motivational guru for years; cancer is increasingly just a nuisance, not a de…