There’s no denying that Centaur had presence. Clad in black and chrome, he dominated the Games Room from the moment he arrived. His American accent - pronouncing his name “CentAR” instead of the British “CentOR” - made him seem even more exotic.

Yes, he had presence. What he didn’t have was class. His five ball attract mode was impressive at first but the showing off got old quickly. His constant demands that someone “Challenge Centaur” revealed his true nature as a macho bully.

Basically, he wasn’t very nice. I tried to get to know him yet really couldn’t get along with him. Maybe it’s because I was looking to have an enjoyable evening rather than a testosterone fuelled fight.

Yet despite that I couldn’t stay away from him. For all his faults, Centaur had a fascination and an ability to draw you in. Every time he treated me badly and humiliated me I swore it would be the last opportunity he got. Yet somehow I always managed to convince myself that I was the one at fault and that I should give him another chance.

Today I’d know better and walk away. Back then I’d never even heard the term “codependency”.

When Centaur finally left the Games Room, my emotions were a mixture of sadness and relief. For better or worse his presence had certainly made an impact on my life.