LIZ JONES MEETS THE SELFISH SELF-HELP GURU

AFTER

I SENT DAVID the bill for half the Edinburgh flat because he ruined the mini break and my niece’s wedding, the bill for feeding his cat for three years, along with my sort code and account number, he eventually replied with an email. ‘What is the name on the account?’ I sometimes think the whole world has gone mad. What does he mean, what is the name on the account? How can he not know my name after four years of (admittedly dysfunctional) ‘dating’. I emailed him my name, then heard not another word about the two grand. Nothing. I looked this morning. Nothing. Still £4.76 in credit, an amount too small to be withdrawn at an ATM. Even the lovely elderly couple who gave up Minstrel wrote to me the other day, offering to pay £500 off my vet bill (which, of course, I politely refused, given they didn’t turn up a few years later and snatch him back). But David? Three years of top-quality cat food, and so far not a bean. Not even half the rent of the flat in Edinburgh, given we had to leave after just two nights when I had paid for three.

My God, this man is hard work. It’s always, ‘I forgot my shirt/I need to re-park my car/My car’s been clamped/The bathroom light doesn’t work/My cooker has been disconnected/I need to pay the Congestion Charge/I need tobacco/I’ve lost my keys/What’s the code on the wifi?/My Santander card doesn’t work’. It’s like having a giant child. Are all men like this or is it just him? And do you know what? Despite the fact I took with us to Edinburgh a hamper full of Kiehl’s shampoo and conditioner, coffee, Yorkshire tea, special La Perruche sugar cubes, eggs, milk and his blasted gluten-free bread, when he started to make breakfast on the morning of the wedding he whined, ‘Did you bring any cider vinegar?’ No I bloody well didn’t! At least I didn’t forget my outfit! Men always pick on the ONE THING you didn’t do.

He-ventually, as Manuel would say, he sent another email. He said he was ‘willing to look after the [two, small] rescued sheep’ if he got an apology, as well as an admittance that the whole mission was ill conceived. I ignored him.

A week later, I got this. ‘I know you don’t want to hear from me, and I do apologise for upsetting you. I don’t think you care how much you have upset me.’

I replied. ‘I am sorry too. I just wanted one weekend without anyone moaning or talking about sheep or arguing.’

He replied. ‘I know. I am just so worried about them. It spilled out from me. I blame the whisky.’

You see? The reason he was sobbing at the wedding, and swore in front of my dress, was because he was drunk.

Anyway, it’s now 10am, and already my day isn’t going well. I’ve just had a legal complaint about a piece I wrote. An email has just dropped into my inbox from the Official Receiver, with more questions. Then I log on to my Barclays account, and find I still have no money, so I can’t go anywhere or do anything or eat. I email David. ‘I’m on telly tomorrow.’ He gets very excited when I am on TV. When I was in Celebrity Big Brother, he would turn up at the location every eviction night, in an awful cardigan, then get home, late, and watch the recording. I noticed, when I was last at his ‘flat’, that he still watches CBB, even though I am no longer on it. I think the location, the house, reminds him of me. I was optimistic back then. I thought, ‘Do this difficult thing, and then everything will be all right.’ Who was I kidding? Anyhow, back to today. He replies: ‘When? Where? How can I watch it? I’m in France! Remember to smile!’

I really, really cannot stand it when people tell me to smile. What’s wrong with my normal resting b**** face?

The minute my segment has aired, David sent me an email.

‘Hi, well done you. You came across really well. I missed it in real time, saw it on ITV Plus 1, and wasn’t Mini Puppy well behaved? Lydia said you have a beautiful smile, very engaging. Something I’ve always known. X’

Who in God’s name is Lydia???

I CANNOT STAND IT WHEN PEOPLE TELL ME TO SMILE. WHAT’S WRONG WITH MY RESTING B**** FACE? ’’