Welcome to my website and the official home of Fuck Cancer: Rodger the Dodger Comic Blog, where life’s curveballs get the middle finger, and we tackle adversity with a pint of British humour and a dash of defiance.

 

Let’s get one thing straight: I write as honestly and as deeply as I like, with no one to answer to but myself (and maybe my two dogs, who remain unimpressed unless I have food). The last 12 years have been a winding adventure, one that’s involved winning awards, publishing books, running a charity, and learning that even on the days life kicks you in the lady balls, you can still get back up swinging (preferably with a cup of tea in hand, or a Gin, take ya pick).

 

I’ve achieved, spent, celebrated, and, most importantly, helped others along the way. Sure, my international best-selling book series kicked things off, but what really matters is being able to show others that you can redesign your life and mind, no matter what gets thrown at you.

 

If you’ve got just one person in your corner, you can do more than survive; you can thrive.

As a proud psychology nerd (honours degree from Milton Keynes University, thank you very much), I’m fascinated by the human mind and why we do what we do. I’ve channelled that obsession into supporting people through my words, my voice, and my work at New Pasture Lane Community Centre (yes, that’s my good deed for the day).

 

Then my husband’s bladder cancer came along, uninvited, as usual. Instead of letting it steal the show, I created this blog: Fuck Cancer: Rodger the Dodger. Here, we dodge despair, laugh at the darkness, and share the unvarnished truth about living, healing, and fighting back.

 

Rodger the Dodger isn’t just a comic blog; it’s a two-fingered salute to misery, a celebration of resilience, and a safe space for anyone who’s ever felt like the underdog (or the last Jaffa Cake in the packet).

 

My goal is to offer the kind of no-nonsense wisdom I wish I could have handed my 20-year-old self, so she could’ve dodged some pain, skipped a bit of trauma, and saved a fortune in bad haircuts. Everything here is straight from the heart, and powered by the belief that you’re capable of far more than you think.

 

If you make it through all the (occasionally bonkers) blog posts here and still want more, drop me a message. We’ll break down barriers together, with a little sarcasm, a lot of encouragement, and maybe a biscuit or two.

 

The journey starts now. Buckle up, laugh loudly, and remember: you’re not alone, and you’re far more special than you realise.

 

Cheers,
Kate