Do you want to hear this? It’s maybe interesting; if you like screwed up people telling you their dysfunctional stories. Or should that be dysfunctional people telling you screwed up stories?

I am poor. I never earn enough money to be anything more than scrabbling by. I live in the south west of France, it being the cheapest area the ex and I could find. When we separated I bought the cheapest habitable house in the town. My son and daughter and I live there together, cheaply, when I am not away being paid badly for the work I do well, or hiding in the loving arms of the Man.

The cocaine fuelled frenzies are long over. Everything gets dull if you do the same thing for too long. At least that’s the philosophy that has always saved me from going too far.

The cocaine fuelled guy went too. I sacked him when I fell in love with the man.

The man and I did some awkward years together before he imploded with the fabulousness of it all. He popped the balloon with an email and then a few months later sank into a quagmire of regret and misery.

Just over two and a half years ago I returned the coded contact of the man...