Last night, my mum told me a story.

My mum often goes to stay in this cottage in the middle of north Wales. Personally I hate the place, but she loves it there. Anyway, my mum knows the owner, Sue Ryan, moderately well.

Now, last time my mum was down there, Sue told her of a plan to leave her current partner and get back together with her ex-husband. (Are you worried yet?) Apparently she divorced him due to his alcohol problem, which he has now got over. (Heard that before?)

The plan is that she would get her mother to remortgage the house to provide some extra cash, and use that to buy her partner out. And then her ex-husband could move back in and everything would be perfect.

Clearly, this is a plan who’s best possible outcome is somewhat dubious, and has huge potential to go catastrophically wrong. All it would take is one wrong move…

Let me now describe this Wrong Move:

Ex-husband sends a love letter to Sue. Except he meant to send it to Sue Ryan, but accidentally sent it to Sandra Ryan’s email address. Sandra Ryan is his current wife.

Sandra Ryan opens her email, and she’s like “OMG! WTF? HAX!!” So she phones Sue. (!) But Sue isn’t home. And Sue’s partner answers the phone (!!!) And now he knows what’s going down.

As I stand here, listening to this tale of events, the outcome is so horrifyingly predictable. It’s like watching a slow-motion train wreck video; with terrible inevitability, effect follows cause, and an irreversible chain reaction occurs.

It would almost be amusing but for the wrecked lives…

So Mr Ex-Husband gets home and finds all his clothes and belongings physically laying in the street. Sue’s partner has vanished, and he’s the one who pays all the bills.

So Sue is now sitting in a cottage in the middle of north Wales with no money, no car and two half-built cottages that she has no hope of either finishing or selling. To put it technically, she is now completely fannied.

Call be an evil heartless biscuit, but… self-inflicted injury?