What was once as on-trend as a pair of Lips wide-legged jeans is now about as appealing as being Pete Doherty's cleaner.

Oh I know it's still got legions of diehard fans and it will trundle along for a year or so with millions of members but those of us with better things to do are moving on.

Strictly speaking, Facebook is for losers – people with too much time and not enough real friends.

It's a chance to have what many never have before – vast numbers of supposed pals.

Rekindled

Why else would they devote so much energy to conversing online with people they barely speak to in person and dredging up past acquaintances?

I know some people have rekindled old friendships through the site, found pals they genuinely, innocently, lost touch with.

And I admit it's useful for keeping in touch with jet-setting buddies who are always living it up in some far-flung destination.

But I can only assume some of the associates who messaged me must have been hypnotised and regressed to recall my name.

They had been all but erased from my memory before their messages popped into my inbox.

The guy I worked in a dog biscuit factory with for around five weeks, 12 years ago; a girl who went out with the brother of my then boyfriend, eight years ago; a guy who threw a Pot Noodle over me at uni, 13 years ago.

I could see it as a huge compliment that they still think of me.

But I can't help wondering whether they've just drawn up a list of every person they've ever met and are systematically working their way through it.

I caved in to peer group pressure when I joined Facebook and, after momentarily thinking it was the coolest thing since MySpace, I soon realised it had no place in my life.

I don't have time to sit around trawling the internet for people I used to go to school with; answering movie quizzes or joining online groups.

It's a scientific fact that we only have enough room in our lives for around 12 close friends because true chums demand time and thought.

It's fine reminiscing over days gone by and catching up on gossip from the last 15 years when you think your Facebook mate still lives in Somerset.

When you find out she actually lives round the corner and wants to go for a drink, you suddenly wish she had stayed in your past.

It's not just me that's turning their back on the 'book.

Sticky

People are realising they don't want hundreds of contacts watching their every move, checking out their photo albums.

One BF ditched it after a pal posted photos of her leaving-party on the site, alerting uninvited workmates to the secret event and leaving her in a sticky situation.

There's the risk of identity fraud to worry about if you post too many personal details, and firms are cracking down after realising they're losing countless working hours to the craze.

People in the public eye have already paid the price of blind honesty on social net-working sites, like the two British junior tennis stars suspended after publicising their boozing and partying on Bebo.

So, while you tap away on your keyboard hunting down another name from the past I will be sitting down face to face with my girls, sharing all the gory details of stories too juicy to share with the online masses, over a nice chilled bottle of sauvignon blanc.

That's true friendship.


Cold comfort for rough sleepers


EXCITEDLY dashing off to meet my pal for post-work drinks at Malmaison I was brought back down to earth with a bump when I spotted a homeless guy.

It was the coldest night we've had this year and he was sitting on the ground with his hood up and a thin blanket over his knees, in an alleyway off Lower Briggate.

I don't see how or why in a prosperous city like Leeds, in a dev-eloped country, anyone should be sleeping rough – never mind in sub-zero temperatures.

It's heartbreaking. Why isn't there somewhere for them to go?

I'm sure if he'd had any alternative he would have been there.

There's a page on Leeds City Council's website called "help if you're homeless" but somehow I doubt he had internet access.


Misguided devotion


THEY say there's nowt so queer as folk and the YEP regularly provides us with proof.

I don't have a problem with Jordan, or Katie Price, as she prefers to be known now.

She's a shrewd businesswoman, a go-getter and she's done her best to cope with a seriously disabled child.

I wouldn't queue up to buy her book and have it signed but if I was passing by I'd want to have a sneaky peek at her in the flesh.

So I wasn't surprised hundreds lined up in the Merrion Centre in Leeds to meet the busty glamour girl.

What stunned me was that some had bought her presents for her children.

Shoes for Princess, an activity set for Junior and a shaker toy for Harvey – the offspring of a woman said to be worth around £40million.

Talk about misguided generosity. I can't think of any youngsters in less need of gifts.

Let's hope these crazy fans give as generously to the next YEP toy appeal.