I WOULD LIKE TO CLARIFY THAT THE GUYS ON EITHER SIDE OF ME WERE NOT MEAN OR NASTY PEOPLE, THEY WERE JUST WELL BROUGHT UP AND NICE.

JUDGING BY HIS NEWFOUND BEARD, BRIGHTLY PATTERNED SHIRT AND THE RATHER SHABBY LOOKING ANORAK HE WAS WEARING, THIS OUTING OF SELF DISCOVERY HAD PROVED SUCCESSFUL.

CAT ON A HOT TIN ROOF IS THE IDEAL LOCATION FOR THE CLASSIER EXECUTION OF THE CLASSIC TEENAGE CINEMA MOVE OF THE YAWN-STRETCH-PUT-YOUR-ARM-ROUND-HER.

WHOEVER SAID THERE WAS SAFETY IN NUMBERS WAS CLEARLY EITHER EXCEEDINGLY POLY-AMOROUS OR DID NOT INTEND FOR THE PHRASE TO BE APPLIED TO DATING.

I CAN ONLY COMPARE THE FIRST HALF AN HOUR OF THE EVENING TO A TWELVE YEAR OLDS’ SCHOOL DISCO BUT WITH A SLIGHTLY CLASSIER ASSORTMENT OF CRUDITÉS AND HUMUS RATHER THAN PARTY RINGS AND SAUSAGE ROLLS.

HE DID NOT WANT HIS CULINARY MASTERPIECE OF OSTRICH STEAKS, INTENDED TO CARRY THEM BACK TO THEIR EVENINGS UNDER THE SUB-SAHARAN STARS TO BE RUDELY INTERRUPTED BY HIS BUMBLING BABOON OF A FLATMATE. HINT TAKEN.

I THEREFORE RESIGNED MYSELF TO SELFLESSLY UPHOLDING THE ‘NO SEX’ PART OF THIS BLOG’S NAME… THE ‘NO CITY’ PART OF THE TITLE HAS PROVEN HARDER TO MAINTAIN.