Recent research, attracting global interest, suggests that we can only maintain a small number of close friendships and also, that we can count the number of our true friends on just one hand.

It also theorises that as our situations change and we make new buddies, we tend to replace the people admitted to our intimate circle rather than add to them.

This revelation might come as something as a shock to those who would require several abacuses to tot up the number of friends they have accumulated online.

I can see them shaking their heads in denial, but I bet the research is right and the number of their 337 friends that they could actually rely on in times of need, or laugh hysterically together with over an intimate secret, would be very few and far between.

In fact I think there’s a danger of us becoming being so obsessed with maintaining our virtual friendships that we’ll neglect to forge any real ones. If we’re not careful we won’t even have anyone to even go for a drink with – but hey, we’ll probably be doing that online soon too. Exactly how crazy might it all just get?

What’s even more bizarre to me is the number of people determined to transform their perfectly good offline relationships into online ones. And the people I witness performing this strange ritual are not youngsters but women around my own age.

I can understand perfectly wanting to publicly congratulate someone online for a great achievement, even when you could just as easily do so privately. After all, it’s nice to make people feel good and it doesn’t do any harm to make the rest of your online friends appreciate the calibre of the other people you know, or kind of know.

But it beats me why you would post a note online that thanks someone for dinner, wishes them better health or tells them that you love them, when you could just as easily lean over a few inches and whisper it into their actual ear.

Another amazing example of online behaviour I have been privy to (well, me and a couple of hundred others that is) was going on a virtual honeymoon with an online friend and her new husband. Courtesy of Facebook we were with them every step of the way. We were invited to glimpse views from balconies, salivate over five-course gourmet dinners, gasp over sunburn damage and join daily sightseeing tours.

We were even treated to photos from their bedroom of towels folded into an exact replica of the Taj Mahal and swan ice sculptures nestling bottles of champagne – all knocked up by the maid in between her dusting duties no doubt. Fortunately we weren't presented with images of the consummation. Surely a honeymoon is the most private thing in the world. But there seems to be a real need to constantly attempt to reinforce our own private worth publicly. Maybe for some people the site should be renamed Fakebook.