I think we've reached the end of our friendship. I'm not sure that we will agree about who has been the better ex friend, but up for consideration are the following.
That unfortunate business in 1987, when your first wife left you for her lesbian lover, and you drank whole bottles of whisky and slept out under hedgerows. I was very understanding about that. You had plenty of support.
Then the cat got run over and the wife was still playing away and you phoned me one morning when I was getting the kids ready for school and I had to overdose them on chocolate buttons to help you out. Plenty of back-up there as I recall.
Things were rather quiet until the year 2001, when you wrote that mysterious letter from hospital, saying that you were there because others had deemed you a danger to yourself, and please could I help again. Naturally, I helped lavishly.
I think we should draw a discreet veil over that disgraceful tantrum you had in 2017, about the Bronze Age sword, especially as I was so deeply understanding, restrained and anxious about your state of mind.
However, the time has now come.
Sending me two birthday presents, and then messaging me to say that you had not meant there to be two presents, and please could I return one, takes the biscuit, is beyond the pale, really pushes the boat out and is so totally bonkers that I have to say-