In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Google, it has been 17 days since nmy last blog post.

In that time, I have coveted my neighbours shoes, spoken ill of many people., I have been  impatient, angry, envious, proud, jealous, vengeful, gluttonous and slothful. I have not been chaste in mind or body. And I have almost certainly taken my mother's name in vein.

I was brought up Catholic, you see, and I quite like the idea that you can do pretty much anything you want, as long as you confess, say a few Hail Marys and are truly sorry for your sins.

I stopped going to confession some 30 years ago - and became agnostic around the same time - but I still think we could all do with a confession now and then. At least to purge our conscience.

But who needs religion when you have the Internets to hear your confessions.

In the past month or so I've read about

• the "hooker teacher"
• A nasty divorce and custody dispute (clearly written by someone who should be seeing a psychologist, rather than writing diatribes)
• A bloke surprised that he is now pretty much alone after being an arsehole to both his wife and his mistress.; and
• A writer who took umbrage to an online critique

There's more, and the common thread seems to be that none of these people have enough self-awareness to realise that their confessions (or in the final example, reaction) are likely to attract vitriol and bile and be the subject of much water-cooler discussions.

Or maybe they do? Maybe this is the 21st century version  of "bad press is better than no press at all". Maybe they are looking for there 15 minutes of fame?

Whatever their reasons, this sticky beak is very grateful for other's lack of inhibitions. But if you expect the same from A Small Drop of Ink, you might want to stop reading right now.