ONLY The Lonely - Roy Orbison. Alone Again, Naturally - Gilbert O'Sullivan. All By Myself - Celine Dion.

Or do you scorn these carping, miserable crooners and delight in being footloose and fancy free, master of your own destiny? It depends whether you are a pack animal or lone wolf, or whether you are so damned ugly and unpopular, the pack won't let you in.

Remember those childhood games when teams were being selected and one kid was always last to be chosen, reluctantly accepted by the team captain to make up numbers, even though this lad had shouted as hard as the rest: "Me, me, me"?

Or do you know the chap who walks into the pub, doesn't hear the groans "Oh, no it's him" and tries to join a raucous group who turn their backs and tighten the pack so he cannot enter?

I loathe my own company. For one thing, the conversation's so boring. I always know what I'll say next - and I've heard it all before. Okay, so my friends might say the same thing about me.

From falling out of bed to falling back in, I am surrounded by people and I would not have it any other way. When I get home to an empty house, I pace and fret until someone comes home. Either that or I nip across to the pub in search of company and conversation.

My wife, on the other hand, relishes time on her own - at least that's what she'll tell the divorce lawyers. She loves the peace and quiet, the chance to do girlie pampering things such as six layers of nail varnish, cucumber slices on the eye pouches and catching up on brushing her fangs.

So if she loves time to herself, why does she spend hours on the phone to her sister?

In one of my jobs I had to do one of these psychological profiling things and came out of it as something like a "psychotic loner." We really fooled them, didn't we doctor?

Have you ever taken a holiday on your own? It must be one of the worst experiences possible if you are a people person. That and eating out alone.

I couldn't do either. If I set out on holiday with no one to speak to but barmen, flight attendants and waiters, I'd soon be on the first rowboat home.

As for eating out, no chance. I'd sooner starve. They stick lonely old you at a lonely old table, but you still feel that all eyes are on you. Even lifting a fork to your mouth, trying not to catch someone's eye is a nightmare. So you pretend to be absorbed in a book, or take an unnatural interest in the wine bottle label, which you have now read 36 times and even played anagrams with the word "Chianti".

We all love the chance of a break in a posh hotel. But imagine a life where you are forever on the road, eating lonely meals in crowded places and watching endless hours of TV.

That's another thing. Watching TV au solitaire. It's no fun if there's no one there to laugh or cry with, or even to moan to that it's a load of old rubbish.

What sort of life is it when you have no one to scratch your back, to tell you if your bum looks big in this, to hold a finger on the knot while you tie it? You can't play tennis on your own, or chess or whist or poker. And Patience does get a bit boring when you've got it "out" a dozen times.

Then there are the real dangers of too much time on your own. You start talking to yourself. Then it becomes a habit you don't even notice and you do it while walking down the street, in the shops and even in the office. You become even more lonely because people avoid you, wondering when the men in white coats will come and take you away in the green van.

Okay, Bill. What shall we talk about now? Well, William, we could discuss the price of fish in Sainsbury's.

Updated: 11:06 Tuesday, November 22, 2005