Love me for a reason - let the reason be because I'm fabulous.

One of my customers is trying to get me sacked.

Luckily I have a good boss who knows me well, and so I can relax in the knowledge that the mental meanderings of this vindictive fool are largely being ignored. However, a less forgiving or more easily influenceable boss would have sacked me by now. I don't understand this kind of behaviour.

So what have I done? Nothing, it seems. His claims are all largely founded on the basis that he just doesn't like me. The good thing is that he cancelled my meeting with him today, so I get to stay in the warmth and comfort of home, rather than sitting on a cold TGV for five hours, heading out to the french equivalent of lands' end. This has to be a bonus, no?

What does surprise me is the fact that this guy really, truly doesn't like me.

He really doesn't. He doesn't like me.

Now, I've met his wife and kids, I've eaten at their family table and I've spent many an hour working with him and helping him to build the (very) successful business that he has today.

Yet he doesn't like me.

I don't get it. This, I do not get. I don't understand. Je ne comprends pas. Ich verstehe nicht.

You all know me by now. I am funny, charming and good company. I work hard to make people feel comfortable and tell self-deprecating jokes so that they know that I'm not up my own arse.

I always dress appropriately, I wear good cologne and I have regular haircuts. I clean my teeth, wash my hair and take at least one shower a day. I naturally change socks and underpants daily as a minimum.

I have glittering conversation that is suitable for all occasions. I know jokes and tell them well. I flirt when necessary and with the appropriate person. I'm a zinger in the sack.

I can talk about my celebrity encounters; my brushes with royalty. I'm up to speed on hollywood gossip and can give fairly decent sporting banter (with a little notice).

I am well travelled and have anecdotes galore. After all, who else has eaten a bowl of semolina off the back of a live giant tortoise whilst chatting with an eighty-year-old, bare-breasted Dogon tribeswoman?

I know the best places to eat, sleep and drink in most of the world's hotspots, and can usually tell you who I ate, slept or drank there with. You may well have heard of them.

And on top of all of this, I'm humble and not at all egotistical and narcissistic. I never point out how great I am and I always prefer to talk about others.

I mean really. What's not to like?