I strategically make mates with all rungs of the social ladder when it comes to parental networking.

This pays dividends. For example – a young Mum I have cultivated as a working-class friend, just got a job in the school office.

Wide-eyed with disbelief (poor lamb), she has informed me that my name is on the Head’s top secret Loose Cannons List.

I acted shocked, hurt and confused, but I am inwardly so flattered.

Being a diagnosed sociopath, I get off on making a nuisance of myself. But there is a rub…

Being a mother and someone keen to cultivate a playground image that won’t hamper my little ‘uns, I know that shit’s not good.

My own mother was – and still very much is – a narcissist.

She clacked into my childhood playgrounds in stilettos and leopard-print (when they were still the uniform of prostitutes and barmaids). She drank to excess at my birthday parties and slow-danced with 8-year-old boys from my school. She sported low-cut tops, fag-holders and a full face of make-up and she stood far too close to the Dads on sports days.

As a consequence, the mothers all wanted to scratch her eyes out and I was shunned at each school I went to.

I hated her. In fact, I once tried to poison her with Calgon in her gin and tonic, when she was three sheets to the wind. But she just farted, passed out and I spent 12 hours on my knees praying to ‘Lord Cheeses’ that she wasn’t going to wake up.

But I’m not her. You’ll find me with an artfully pulled-back ponytail and a discreetly expensive playground Mum’s coat. I smell nice. I get make-up lessons from the Bobbie Brown girls. I NEVER let anyone in the playground know that I really think they’re mostly c***s.

Yes, there was the time I was high on coke in a governor’s meeting, but I thought I disguised it well. And I once got into a physical fight with one of the bulldog mothers from the estate – but I gave off like I wasn’t fighting back and secretly kicked her so hard in the foof she was waddling for weeks.

It seems that these incidents – and a couple of others too trifling to mention – have drawn a little unwelcome attention to me. Like Nigella, my halo has slipped a fraction.

Not to worry. Like Nigella, I too have years of meticulous groundwork, which I can quickly recover.

Us sociopaths have rare skills of persuasion and manipulation. In fact, it will give me a great deal of pleasure to mount a refreshed charm offensive. I’ve been so bored lately.

First stop, damson chutney for the Autumn Bazaar and the donation of a Cath Kidston goodie bag to the PTA raffle.

Second stop, getting my name deleted from the Loose Cannons List, by any means necessary.

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