Oh fuck Terry, mate. That's a shitter.

First things first — I got the clap once. Bird in a pub, 1981, before I met my first wife Linda. Dirty bitch. Not sure which of the cock-rots you've got specifically, but I hope it's nothing too bad son. Get yourself sorted, take whatever they give you, and don't google it. I made that mistake once and I was convinced I was dying for three weeks. I wasn't dying. I was fine. You'll be fine.

Now. Just on the point about your mate Dave. I don't want to seem unsupportive Terry, but he's kinda right. Nobody wants to see a grown man crying to his mates for six weeks solid. I'm not saying don't talk to your mates. I'm saying there's a limit, and you've hit it. Suck it up bud. Dave's a good mate for putting up with it this long, buy him a pint and change the subject.

Karen. Right. The dormancy thing. I'm going to be straight with you Terry because that's what you need right now. The doctor went quiet. You said it yourself. The doctor went quiet. In my twenty two years in insurance I learned one thing above all others — when a professional goes quiet, that's your answer. That's not dormancy son. That's Karen. I'm sorry. Next.

Scott. I don't know Scott. But I know this. A mate who goes round to see your ex-girlfriend six weeks after you've split up over something like this is not your mate. Scott has made his decision. You make yours. I'd be having a very short and very direct conversation with Scott and I wouldn't be having it in a pub because you don't want witnesses. Not because anything's going to happen. Just because these conversations are private. Scott's finished Terry. I'm sorry but there it is.

Your mum's house. Get out. I say this with respect to your mum because she sounds like a good woman and the cups of tea are well meant. But you are a thirty six year old man and you cannot sort your head out while someone's looking at you like you're dying over a biscuit. Find a flat. Nothing fancy. Somewhere that's yours. You need four walls that belong to you right now. The tea is making you worse.

In regard to the therapy. Cancel it if it's not too late. I know your sister means well but if you carry on down that path you'll end up weaving your own shirts out of your armpit hair and talking about finding yourself like some sort of woman. You don't need to find yourself Terry. You're in Somerset. You know where you are. What you need is forward momentum, not a stranger asking you how that makes you feel at sixty quid an hour.

Barney. Right. How old is the dog? You said four. Four is a problem. If Barney was fourteen I'd say leave it, he won't be long for this world and it's not worth the aggravation. But four years old is potentially another ten years of dog and that's ten years of Karen having something of yours. Here's what you do. You call Karen. Not text — call. You tell her you want to come and get some of your stuff. When you're there, you take the dog. Don't ask. Don't negotiate. Just put Barney in the car and go. If she texts you afterwards saying she wants the dog back, do not respond until you've already had him for at least a week. Women love bringing this sort of thing to court Terry, and if she tries it and you can say the dog has been living with you happily for a week, she looks mental. Which, let's face it, and I say this with no disrespect to Karen specifically, aren't they all a bit?

The weight. Honestly? Not the worst thing. Nobody wants a tubby man Terry and you've got to get back on that horse sooner rather than later. You're thirty six, not dead. Sort the cock-rots out first obviously, that's just courtesy. But once you're in the clear, get yourself out there. You've lost a stone, you're single, you've got forward momentum. Use it. Otherwise you'll be forty with nowhere to let your tensions out and that's no good for anyone.

The ring. Don't go back for it. I know what you're thinking. You're thinking maybe she's telling the truth, maybe it was dormant, maybe you've thrown away nine years over a medical anomaly. You're not thinking that because it's true. You're thinking it because you miss her and you're lonely and you want to get your end away. Hey, we've all been there. But those are not good reasons to go back. The doctor went quiet Terry. Remember that every time you think about the ring. The doctor went quiet.

Right. That's your lot. Get the flat. Get the dog. Cancel the therapist. Buy Dave a pint. Forget Scott. Sort the cock-rots. Lose a bit more weight. Get back on the horse.

You'll be fine son.

Derek