The true story of Adam Blain, a 44-year-old London lawyer and family man who one day, ends up in A&E after a series of headaches and consistent nausea. Expecting to be sent home with a packet of Paracetamol, he's shocked when harassed doctors are suddenly offering to buy him gourmet coffee. Worse still, the diagnosis of a late-stage brain tumour is made by his oncologist wife. So far, so not funny. Adam, however, is determined not to slide into defeatist misery, and approaches the saga of surgery and chemotherapy with a chirpy, irreverent black humour. What else can he do when every outing risks bits of his brain dripping out of his nose without warning? Wondering constantly what the pear-shaped part of his brain that's been removed is thinking, and whether it's having a better time than he is, Adam takes us through the myriad but necessary indignities inflicted on the brain cancer sufferer. A test, for example, on whether he can he determine whether pictures of faces are smiling? Something his wife is more than happy to help him revise for... The 'revision' involves me sitting in a pub or restaurant with Lu who makes a variety of different facial expressions at me covering the full range of human emotions. It is just like being back at kindergarten... Lu hides behind the menu whilst deciding upon and practising the next expression. She then sticks her head over the top of the menu and I give it my best shot. It would be more dignified for me if she didn't shout "Peekaboo " each time. Or regular appointments with a psychiatrist to determine whether he's a suicide risk? "I appreciate your lateral thinking to my problem. However, isn't suicide completely contrary to the point? I am scared of death and dying, I'm also undergoing horrendous treatments to (hopefully) delay my death. So why would I kill myself? What would be the point? That's been taken care of for me." The psychologist scribbled some stuff down and ticked a box. The box must have been: "No suicide risk," or "Suicide risk but in denial" or most likely... "Smart Arse." Even the bald patch left after the surgery, which resembles A pale pair of boxer shorts shaved into my head. Adam keeps himself going by looking for joy in everything - the radiation mask that resembles an S&M prop, or counting the amount of times he's greeted by a cotton bud being swabbed up his nose and then along the crease of a groin by a nurse to check for MRSA... While his wife encourages him to spend time with fellow cancer sufferers, with their spouses; diarrhea, constipation and catheters making for interesting dinner party conversation... "Let me introduce you to my good friend, Mike. Funny story how we met. Anyway, we get on so well because we are both dying of exactly the same disease. Ain't that right, Micky?" ... his old friends take him out on lads' weekends, their desire to show their mate a good time inhibited by middle-age, children and having, essentially, to babysit a grown man. Pear Shaped is a heartfelt, funny exploration of one man's real-life experiences as he undergoes treatment and simultaneously tries to seize the life he has left, all with the knowledge that a pear-shaped part of his brain is out there somewhere, fending for survival the same way he is.