The bubble's burst; I'm going off him already.

Before you (rightly) roll your collective eyes at my capriciousness, I'll take the opportunity to explain why this is.

In some ways last week was nice - I spent a couple of lunch breaks with him and we had a quick drink after work on Wednesday (no debauchery as yet) but OH MY GOD HE WILL NOT STOP TEXTING ME.

Point in case: I woke up this morning with four. One hoping I had a nice night (Wimbledon Dogs - win! Only I didn't), another saying he was watching Big Brother, a further one asking if I knew Glasto would be on the telly, and a final one saying he was going to sleep.

"Superfluous" springs to mind.

It's not just the text messages either. At work he's been near enough constantly either coming into my court, passing me notes, sending me messages via my usher and new clerk or coming into our office (which is meant to be our SANCTUARY and keep out anyone in the Old Bailey who ISN'T a stenographer).

I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRGHHHHHH. I mean, there's paying someone attention and then there's sitting outside someone's house hiding in a tree with a telescope. And unfortunately he definitely seems to be swaying towards the latter category.

I am so, so glad I'm going to Glastonbury in three days' time.

However until then if you want me I will be found rifling through a metaphorical Monopoly box, looking for my "Get out of jail free" card.

I think I may need it.

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