The most amazing thing I’ve seen on the internet today is this – a man has put his love life in the hands of readers of the Guardian.

This chap, a seemingly unlucky-in-love bloke who thinks his girlfriend is about to chuck him, is certainly brave. Readers are given two options to vote for and he has promised to follow through on the most-popular of the two and report back.

It is definitely an interesting premise, kind of a Seven Days scenario apart from already this man (I am assuming it is a man, it could be a lesbian) already seems far more multi-layered than anyone on that Channel 4 show, from just a few paragraphs.

What is clear immediately is that’s he a complete loon. Stark raving bonkers. To offer famously brutal Guardian readers the chance to decide major life choices is not the action of a rational man. Shame there’s no comments allowed on the article, really.

Then when you look at the evidence – breaking into a girlfriend’s home, chasing a girl he hadn’t kissed to the airport – he’s obviously a cocktail sausage short of a Christmas dinner.

He freely admits to making mistakes, but papers over the fact his current beau “Hayley” was his other half when he went haring after the Canadian lass to the airport. So it’s hard to feel sorry for him. He’s reminding me a bit of Tom Meltzer – the young writer who penned the gloriously awful and sadly now dead Secret Diary of Tom Meltzer aged 22 column for the same newspaper.

Meltzer came across as a bumbling idiot, but this anonymous bloke appears to be a bit more sinister. Perhaps it’s my cynical nature, but the fact he wants to rid himself of the blame for his own bad choices by palming them off on newspaper readers just does not sit right with me. The man needs help, not potentially having his life become even more of a mess.

For what it’s worth – I voted for starting again. The experiment will be a lot more interesting with him seeking a new partner, rather than pursuing a clearly failing relationship. The “I see you more as a friend” path is well-trodden and only works out for the best in bad sitcoms.

But that poses its own problems. Should he meet someone and – on the advice of Guardian readers – enjoy a happy relationship with a new woman, at what point does he open up about the sham nature of the way they got together? I just can’t see it working out. But like a car crash, or Lorraine Kelly’s sagging-evermore cleavage, I’m not going to be able to take my eyes off it.