This week, I received a package containing eight Christmas cards, their envelopes and a mini-calendar, all painted by people using their feet and mouths. Attached was a bill for £6.95 and a lingering sense of guilt. I’ve no idea how they got my address. I never asked for cards – or anything else – from anyone. I don’t even like Christmas. It will cost me money to send back the unwanted products. It will cost the foot-and-mouth strangers money if I don’t, and then I’ll feel like a heartless bitch.

I have nothing against nice people. Niceness is a wonderful quality, when genuine. It is, of course, very nice for everyone.

However, what I can’t stand is the chaps who continually whine about not being able to find a Domme, girlfriend or casual blowjob because of their niceness. These aren’t nice guys. They’re NICE GUYS. And they’re everywhere. You’ll have met plenty. You may even be one. You will often see a NICE GUY lurking in the corner of the pub, bitching his way across an internet message board, or crouching in the bushes outside your bedroom window.

“Why do you think you’re unsuccessful with women,” somebody asks, when prompted by his incessant moaning.

The NICE GUY shakes his head, bottom lip stuck out like a wet, pink shelf and says: “I’m too nice.”

He will then, inevitably, go on to lament how every member of the female population has rejected him in favour of someone less devoted. The NICE GUY will snarl to you about an internet Domme who, inexplicably, ignored his emailed pledges of allegiance and heartfelt pleas to live out the rest of his life under her bed, and is therefore an insensitive whore; about some other selfish cow who told him she only wanted to be friends, but wasn’t enough of a friend to answer the text messages he sent her, every hour of every day, about how bored he was at work and how nice it is to have such good friends; about an ungrateful bitch he would bump into every evening on the bus who, when he finally got up the courage to speak to her, rejected his tearful proposal of marriage.

“They only go for bastards,” he sighs. “None of them like NICE GUYS.”

The NICE GUY perceives women as a collective being, not as several billion separate individuals. The NICE GUY believes that this collective being owes him something in return for all his unsolicited attention, then resents her accordingly if she doesn’t give it, dismissing her own choices as misguided or malicious. The NICE GUY is emotionally exhausting. He is the human equivalent of unwanted foot-and-mouth Christmas cards.

Anyway, it is heartening to learn that I’m not the only one who has met demanding, passive-aggressive, self-proclaimed NICE GUYS who aren’t actually very nice at all. The Heartless Bitches International website has compiled a list of articles by contributors, male and female, who have fallen foul of a NICE GUY. As well as this, there are several hundred comments from readers, some which are hilariously angry.

If anyone who sees me on a regular basis wants free Christmas cards from a non-charitable business that deals in emotional blackmail, do let me know. I’ve got loads to spare.