I died in 2008. This is how it happened.

Jennifer and I went to see the latest James Bond film "Quantum Of Solace" at the Electric Cinema in Birmingham. We had booked a sofa seat. It was Keaton, front row to the left. The sofa seat that we normally have.

A big guy and his mate took the sofa seat next to us on the right. Laurel. The big guy fiddled with his mobile phone all of the way through the trailers. The big guy was still playing with it when "Quantum Of Solace" started. I politely asked the big guy to turn his phone off. The big guy gave me some abuse, but he did turn his phone off.

When "Quantum Of Solace" had finished, I turned to Jennifer to ask what she thought of the film, and I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my lower back. I turned and saw that the big guy was on his feet, moving quite speedily up the aisle with his mate. He briefly looked back at me and then he was gone.

I thought nothing of it. I got up, put my coat over my arm, turned to Jennifer, asked if she was OK, and we left the auditorium.

In the foyer I asked Jennifer to hold my coat, as I wanted to use the toilet. I turned away from her and then she said, "What's that on your shirt?"

I felt around and my hand came away wet. My fingers were sticky and red.

It took 45 minutes for an ambulance crew to arrive. By the time they did, it was too late. It was understandable. A Saturday night in Birmingham. Lot's of 999 phone calls. As I said, the delay was understandable, but Jennifer would later be very vocal about the inadequacies of the ambulance service in the UK, when interviewed by our local paper.

As I lay on the floor of the Electric Cinema foyer, I remember thinking that "Quantum Of Solace" was a really good movie and that I hoped Daniel Craig would sign up for at least one more Bond film. I was going to put "Quantum Of Solace" into my list of films of the year.

I died on 1st November 2008. I was 45 years old.

**

I died in 2009. This is how it happened.

It was a very windy, blowy day. I was walking to the bus stop to catch the bus for work. As I crossed to the bus stop, a road sign, hanging precariously from it's pole, came loose and the sharp corner embedded itself in my skull. I was killed instantly and fell into the road, where I narrowly avoided being hit by a motorcyclist.

A single thought flashed through my brain during the microsecond of time between the impact of the road sign and oblivion. I thought that Julian Rhind-Tutt was going to be a really great Doctor Who.

I died on 17th November 2009. I was 46 years old.

**

I died in 2011. This is how it happened.

Jennifer and I were in London for a long weekend. We had booked tickets online to see Kevin Spacey and Robert Downey Jnr. in the revival of Neil Simon's "The Odd Couple" at the Old Vic, but planned to see at least a couple of other shows, depending on what else was available. It was the same weekend as the demonstration to protest the U.S. invasion of Iran, planned to coincide with President Obama's visit to these shores for meetings with Prime Minister Cameron.

We got up early and went to see the crowds gathering in Trafalgar Square. We were there at exactly the moment the four suicide bombers detonated their explosives. 147 people were killed outright, including myself. 74 people died later in hospital from injuries received. Hundreds of other people were hurt, including Jennifer who had been shielded from one of the blasts by yours truly. Jennifer made a full recovery. A previously unknown Al-Qaeda group claimed responsibility.

The papers dubbed it the "Trafalgar Square Massacre". President Obama called it "An atrocity that will live forever in the annals of cowardly infamy". Prime Minister Cameron called it "A disgraceful attack on liberty, justice and free speech". If I had been able to give my opinion I would have said how pissed off I was that I was going to miss out on seeing Robert Downey Jnr. onstage.

I died on 13th August 2011. I was 47 years old.

**

I died in 2012. This is how it happened.

After years of tension, Jennifer finally left me. I went into a deep depression and couldn't work. By the time the split happened, Jennifer had left the Company and I had a new Boss. My new Boss was a Motherfucker go-getter in a shiny suit and gave me much less leeway than Jennifer ever did. Eventually the Company let me go, citing some obscure clause in my contract to prevent me from suing them.

I went into a deeper depression. I was in denial for a long time, but Sister 1 was a rock. She came through for me. Sister 1 forced me to seek treatment and actually went with me to all of my hospital appointments. I was prescribed a new anti-depression drug called Ucologicistima. It helped. I got better, but was warned that I had to keep taking the tablets.

I was at home watching a favourite film on the Sci-Fi Channel. M. Night Shyamalan's "The Happening" from 2008. A real classic film, if ever I saw one. I had drunk a Red Bull. About an hour into the film I started to develop a headache. I took some Nurofen. Later that evening I had a fatal seizure. The autopsy diagnosed the reason as a previously unknown side effect of combining Taurine (from the Red Bull), Pseudoephedrine (from the Nurofen) and the Ucologicistima tablets.

I was never a sociable person, not even with my family. I was not discovered for 2 weeks. Boxing Day to be exact. Sister 1 became worried when I didn't turn up for Christmas Day lunch and she couldn't get me on the phone.

I died on 12th December 2012. I was 49 years old.

**

I died in 2018. This is how it happened.

I had a friend who was a photographer and an artist. I had known her and her husband for years. Had met them through an old blog, in fact. I had been careful to stay in touch with them throughout all of our changes in location and fortune. Real friends.

My friend had exploded onto the art scene a couple of years before, all of the hard work and effort finally paying off. She was having a 10 year retrospective of her work at the Saatchi Gallery in Chelsea and my wife and I had been invited to attend the opening. Lindsay couldn't attend as she was away filming, but I was glad to accept the invitation.

Four hours into the flight from L.A. to London I suffered a cerebral hemorrhage. There was nothing that could be done. I remember thinking that it was a shame I wouldn't get to see England again. I missed the rain.

My friend's retrospective was a big success.

I died on 16th May 2018. I was 54 years old.

**

I died in 2022. This is how it happened.

It was a time of personal and professional success.

Some years before, my first novel "Support Centre Blues" had been optioned by Hollywood, and had been made into a successful comedy starring Daniel Radcliffe as the younger, thinner, funnier and more handsome version of me. The movie was a big success, it changed my life and, of course, success breeds success.

I adapted my second novel, the thriller "Kill With Me", for the big screen. That was Leo Di Caprio's last big hit. I did an uncredited polish on the script for Steven Soderburgh's adaptation of the TV series "The Man From U.N.C.L.E". Sadly, not as big a hit as we had hoped. I wrote the screenplays for the movies "Fred Jones", "Cordless", "It Takes A Thief" and my favourite, "Replay". I had nearly finished my third novel "Corporation Street" (which was a memoir of my childhood in Birmingham in the 1970's, and nothing much like my Hollywood work), much to my publishers relief.

I was living in the Hollywood hills with my wife Lindsay Lohan. Yes, there was a fair age difference (Lindsay was 23 years younger than me), but it didn't matter. Finding a soul mate has got nothing to do with age. Some people said that I was good for Lindsay. Frankly that was bollocks. Lindsay was still referred to by lazy feature writers as 'Ex-Wild Child Lindsay', but Lindsay was so not that person, long before I met her. Lindsay had matured into a very fine character actress. If anything the opposite was true, Lindsay was good for me. She taught me that I didn't always have to be so serious.

We had been to Tom Cruise's 60th birthday party at his estate in Malibu. Lindsay was a good friend of Katie's and I had met Tom socially a couple of times. True, there was business talk, par for the course, but it was a very nice, happy party. I had met George Clooney for the first time and, frankly, behaved like a sad fan boy. We left sometime after midnight.

Lindsay and I headed west on the Pacific Coast Highway. I had been drinking, so Lindsay was driving, probably a little bit too fast. Suddenly, the car had a front right tire blowout. Lindsay lost control of the car, we hit a barrier and the car flipped over. Lindsay broke her arm in two places. I broke my neck.

Ewan McGregor and Zach Braff said nice things about me at the memorial service. Even with her arm in plaster, Lindsay made a beautiful widow.

At the Oscar ceremony the following year I was included in the list of Hollywood luminaries who had 'passed on'. Completely undeserved. Later that same evening, Lindsay presented the 2023 Best Original Screenplay Oscar. It was her first official public appearance since my death. Lindsay looked gorgeous. I hoped she would find somebody to love her.

I died on 3rd July 2022. I was 58 years old.

**

I died in 2026. This is how it happened.

My Brother and I were watching as my Nephew captained John Terry's England football team to victory against the old foe Germany in the Australian World Cup final. England won 2-1 in normal time. My Nephew didn't score, but he was the midfield dynamo who made a number of crucial passes. All of the expert analysis said so.

As my Nephew was lifting the cup, I felt a hammer blow to my chest. A heart attack. My last thought was that I was 20 years older than my Dad was when he died and that it was still not enough time.

I died on 28th June 2026. I was 62 years old.

**

I died in 2033. This is how it happened.

I had found a lump on my testicles, but had ignored it because I was embarrassed. Stupid, stupid, stupid. By the time the pain was with me in earnest, it was too late and the anti-cancer drugs that could have helped if I had sought treatment earlier, didn't help. I died in hospital hooked up to various machines, surrounded by my family. I was that drugged up and stoned I didn't know where I was or who these people were who were crying.

I died on 1st September 2033. I was 70 years old.

**

I died in 2040. This is how it happened.

I had contracted the virus commonly known as AIDS II. Not a sexually transmitted disease, but a virus transmitted to and from users of the Interweb Full Absorbtion Datasphere. In my old age I had rediscovered my youth in a virtual world where I hung out with young people, went to gigs, saw movies, had (nearly) sex with beautiful girls and, as my Dad would have said, had the craic.

AIDS II was a kind of brain cancer. As it took hold, I drifted away. It wasn't painful. It was kind of dreamy.

I died on 17th July 2040. I was 76 years old.

**

I died in 2063. This is how it happened.

I was kind of knackered, so I gave up. I was glad to go. Anything to avoid a holo-message from the King of England. Fuck that.

I died on 30th August 2063. I was 99 years old. One day short of my 100th birthday. Phew! Close, man.

**

Er... Hello? Still here?

OK. That was an interesting exercise, but I don't think I will die just yet. Too much to do.

Credit where credit is due.

Back in the 1970's the writer Harlan Ellison wrote an article called "The Day I Died" in which he did what I did above, only better. He speculated on his future and the many myriad ways in which he might die. I think that it was one of the best things he ever wrote. He is still one of my favourite writers.

I woke up on Saturday morning with the story in my head and decided to use the same idea. If you have to steal, steal from the very best, but always quote your sources. It would be rude not to.

You might die tomorrow. Think about it. I did.