The year was 1998. Her hair was like silk in my hands. Her lips were tender, sensual. Our hands fitted together like two mink doves.

We walked the streets on Nice in the moonlight, strolling past cafés and yachts and laughing couples. We were very much in love.

We found ourselves on the beach, looking out across the sea. Her head was resting on my shoulder. I’d never known such peace.

"I love you," I whispered. The wind stole my words and mixed them with the salt of the sea. "I love you too," she replied, whispering.

I looked her in the eyes. Those deep, dark eyes, like pools of caramel. “Marry me,” I asked her. Those eyes closed, just for an instant.

Her face – that face that for decades defined beauty – fell. She looked away. "I can’t. I’m so sorry. I love you, but we can’t marry."

Her hand slipped away. "Look at us. You’re a young English writer. I’m former Dallas actress Victoria Principal. It wouldn’t work."

"One day," she continued. "There will be a thing called Twitter. And it will go wrong. And only you will be able to save it."

"Whatever this Twitter thing is, it’s not important," I heaved. "Not compared to our love. Nothing is important compared to our love,"

"Betfair," she whispered. "You have a destiny that will take you far away from me. I love you, but I cannot keep you. No one can."

"When Twitter falls, darkness will engulf the world. People in offices will be bored, sometimes for minutes on end. You will rescue them."

My face was a mask of tears. She reached towards me and with that delicate tongue, licked all those tears away. She ate my sadness.

And with that, she walked into the sea, her body transforming, Manimal-like, into a porpoise. I never saw her again.

I like to think of Victoria as I knew her. As a beautiful human woman. I never think of her as an underwater cetacean, lost in dark waves.

Years later, I discovered Twitter. I hated it. It was the force that had pulled me away from my one true love. It had damned me forever.

And THAT is why I don’t want re-runs of Dallas on TV. We can now return you to the earlier tale of Status Quo vs Slade.