Bullying is the avatar of these ill-tempered days. Whatever the argument – beliefs, politics or sport – the road to take is straight to hell. And while I know that this rage-baiting is all drivel, that people taunt because they’re scared and stupid, they remain an exhausting pain.

I was taunted throughout my high school days. Craig Nettie, Adam Moreland and Andrew McAlpine took turns mocking me for my bad skin, ill-fitting clothes and nerdy music, all of it just to make me feel bad. And it really pissed me off. Mike Czurfisz was a different sort, hair slanted perfectly over his forehead, laid back, incredibly so, posture so easy going, it didn’t seem practiced. He never got mad and got along with everyone.

Mike spoke to me a couple of times, once when there was an outbreak of swine flu at school – he taught us to press the thermometer against the radiator before giving it back to the nurse and get classes cancelled for a week – and then at the spring concert when I managed to dance with a girl until Stairway to Heaven got too fast. “You played that cool, man. She likes you.”

I’ve been thinking about what Mike Czirfusz is doing to handle this age of hate. Does he let it slide and wait for the next cool thing? Or does he bristle now because his daughters are out there and none of this is any good? Whatever it might be, it’s something better than I’m doing, because I’m ready to snap at the next yap. Come on, Mike, give me a hint. I need it.