Nice ex-boyfriend you are. Okay, we didn’t have a relationship as such, and we were only kids, but I was very good friends with your sisters,. I find out you have unfriended me. You d***. Well, actually, yours is tiny. I remember that from the one time long ago when we had s**. Which wasn’t all that great. Mainly because I wouldn’t let you stick your tiny little d*** where you wanted.

And seriously, that time when you thought that my sister would pick a fight with me over you? Over YOU? Are you kidding? I had known you’d screw anything by then, I had moved on. I think she wanted me to fight her, she’s always wanted attention, but no. You have always liked things nice and easy, you bloody great big Mammy’s boy, so the thought that we’d fight in front of you and you’d be the cause of it terrified you slightly more than it thrilled you. Trust me, that was never going to happen. But what I don’t get is that how it never occurred to you that getting intimate with sisters who don’t always get on was a good idea.

When my father died, your body language was all ‘she still wants me and she’s all needy now that her Dad died’. You were NOT sympathetic, not at all. It was like you didn’t care at all. No, I didn’t want you. I would have liked a friend though – and you weren’t. And as it turned out, neither was your sister, who I had considered my best friend. I don’t look her up when I go to her city. Why bother?

My mother thought you were a waste of space, turns out she was right. Even when we were 17 I knew you were a borderline alcoholic. Sadly all your family are, and it will probably continue into the next generation. You liked snogging me, you would have shagged me more had I let you – you were NEVER going to have my cherry, mate – but you didn’t want to take on my on dates as such, oh no. At the time it rankled, but now I’m so glad you didn’t. I’m so glad our thing was never official. I’d be mortified. You even whined about your debs – I could have gone with someone else. I wonder if I had, would you have realised … I should have accepted that boy’s invitation. But at the time I loved you, much as I understood about love. To you, I was ‘another great person’. Nice. You always had money to go and drink several pints, but never any to take me out. You never wanted to go dancing – but years later I saw you out dancing, and frankly you can’t. YOU HAVE NO RHYTHM.

So basically you’re a gutless Mammy’s boy who never lived up to the promise of his sisters, you have a tiny d***, you’re a borderline alcoholic, and no sense of rhythm.

I have my own business, great friends, a wonderful partner, a life I enjoy, my good health, and a vivid imagination. I have accomplished a lot of things I wanted to accomplish, I’m not sure what you’ve done with your life. You certainly haven’t done anything particularly noteworthy.

I win. And my mother was right about you.