Special Guest Blogger: Paul Gaugin

Before becoming a painter i was a successful, and rich, stockbroker but after my marriage fell apart i was a poor tarpaulin salesman so began painting full time and ended up the Caribbean island of Martinique but it was so hot i returned to France and my paintings were displayed with van Gogh's brother buying 3 of them and that was when i was introduced to Vincent and he asked me to stay at his home.
Van Gogh and i were polar opposites, i was sane but he was mental and so damn high maintenance. He was increasingly prone to extreme mood swings and becoming clingier by the day, more than once i would sometimes awaken to find the nut standing over my bed, just staring at me. He even once threw a glass at my head, which is why i threatened to strangle him in his sleep and he never did it again.
Afraid of being left alone he had the brainwave of inviting more artists to our house and making it a sort of commune, which i politely declined and said i was off to Tahiti and van Gogh lost it, attacking me with a straight razor.
I stormed out of the house, so van Gogh chopped off his own ear and gave it to his favorite prostitute, because everyone grieves in their own way.
Not wanting to be around the sort of guy who attacks you with a razor when you announce you are going on a vacation, i headed off to a tropical paradise and left him alone with his tears and the cat sniffing around the slab of bloody ear meat on the floor.
I stayed in Tahiti for for a couple of years but after running out of funds and being diagnosed with cardiovascular syphilis, i returned to France, had my ankle shattered in a drunken brawl and my syphilis was causing me problems so returned to Tahiti and then Marquesas and died a couple of years later found by my neighbour who in the traditional Marquesan way, chewed on my head in an attempt to revive me.