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Danny Healy-Rae calls it “Puss Book”. Why? Because, apart from everyone’s face, everyone’s paw marks are all over it.

Well, guilty as charged. I have given up Facebook for Lent (apart from the odd peek). Removed the app from the iPad, so every time I am tempted to take a break and see what’s happening on FB, and maybe release a bit of stress by giving out about something, or get a buzz by gazing at a painting on the arts sites I follow, or see the news from “friends”, I have to think of something else to do.

But it is easier to give up the fags than Facebook. Granted, I can still sneak the occasional FB fix and sure who will know? No smoke will rise if I go the long way round via password and email and access a peek (a bit like smoking outside) - though there is the risk of letting off steam and hot air.

Even if I remain inside for my fix, no physical toxins will attach from my screen. So, what of it then?

The problem is everyone will know, actually. Facebook is watching me and everyone else and each time I log on they not only know what I am up to, they know where it is I am up to it!

Facebook began for me as a journalistic tool, but has become a daily attraction, sometimes a several times a day habit, a nightly engagement, and a bit of fun. But I am getting less enamoured with it. I am also becoming increasingly self-conscious not just in what I say and what I reveal indirectly about myself in “likes”. And sure isn’t it all likes and isn’t everything happy-clappy on FB where it is the best of all places in the best of all possible worlds. Isn’t it now? (Unless you make an awkward remark and disturb the ever narcissistic glass pool.)

Only that the New York Times tells us in a piece by an FB insider that “when Russians decided to target Americans during the 2016 election, they didn’t buy TV or newspaper ads, or hire a skywriter. They turned to Facebook, where their content reached at least 126 million Americans.”

Facebook prioritized data collection, handing over information about their users instead of protecting them. In other words, it doesn’t give a fig leaf for any of us.

Worse, the spied upon have a hand in it themselves in opening the door and revealing their own worlds. In all innocence. Figs? We are back to the garden, Adam and Eve, too, bit the apple, probably not realising the consequences fully.

Anyway for now, I am trying to resist the bite.