The people I (probably) won't be dating

• The man who called me over to his car, told me I was lovely, then started singing he wanted to put his hands all over me. I thought he was going to ask directions.
• Any of the young men in Brixton who call me rasta, try to sell me drugs, then hit on me.
• Any of the old rasta men in Brixton who assume I dig old toothless rastas.
• The really lovely blue haired friend of G's  who was living in Brixton when I accidently slept with him and haven't really spoken to since.
• Probably anyone who lives in Brixton, come to think of it.
• The bastard I kinda left M for who called out of the blue a month ago to tell me he missed me, loved me, but wouldn't call again for the sake of his relationship.
• The theatre techie at theatre-land work experience who spent half a drunken evening trying to touch me up, then assumed I wanted his number.
• The uber-gorgeous lighting guy at theatre-land who's totally unavailable but very flirtatious
• Any of the men I have actually been on dates with recently
• Any of the hot joggers or dog walkers on the common because I'm generally carrying poo bags,  screaming at the dog, being dragged away by the dog, restraining the dog (who is trying to bite them), or a fun mixture of the above.

Or....

• The Russel Brand styled hipster who spent an evening in Reading trying to chat me up with carefully crafted hair and image, and affected speech delivery.

Although I can't say I fancied him in anyway, he was quite fun - in as much as he'd based his entire persona on a man with drug issues, carefully crafted hair and image, and affected speech delivery. Actually finding someone who is willing to converse in a flowery, pontificating mock-Dickensian fashion with a mockney accent in a horrid bar will never fail to amuse me.
Or as he'd probably have it;

'stumbling upon the type of chap who might be willing to participate in some elaborate banter in a convesational stying what is packed full of creative flair and wit with a mug rather like myself in an 'orrid, sordid little drinking establishment such as the one we 'appened to be lending our custom to, will never fail to somewhat tickle my fancy.'

So, we had a little giggle, people watched together, and when I left, I had no regrets about not exchanging digits (or bodily fluids). He said he'd track me down on the internet. As he only had my first name to go on, I scoffed at it. 8.30am the next morning saw this first email arrive through facebook, and the following conversation between us go on over the next week....

HIM:
Now, I dont know about you but I think my unassailable detective skills deserves some kind of credit, as soon as I saw that bejeweled sparkling object attached to your forehead, I knew, I had to track you down In order to make arrangements to buy one for my own human head. So what was the afterdark like, was it still dark and dingy with sticky floors?


ME:
I was about to congratulate you on your suberb (albiet slightly stalkerish) reconnaissance skills.... and then I discovered you'd managed to get my surname from my sister. But never the less - I doff my hat to you!
Afterdark was indeed dark and dingy, and I ran away long before the end. How was your night Mr.Sherlock?


HIM:
touché AlI, in one sort sentence you have managed to knock me off my rarther impressive detective pedestal, and reduce me to nothing but a desperate stalkerish pervert of a man. I can assure you I'm not a stalker but instead a kind hearted level headed man.. that decided to go to your sister to extract as much information as i possibly could on you so I could then find you through cyberspace. My night was ok, nothing special, I pretty much went home as you were leaving for the afterdark. So where did you run away to at the end of the night?


ME:
I ran away to the circus. But on the way there I stopped to help an old lady across the road, but she was a decoy, and I was kidnapped by a pirate and have been forced into slavery on the seven seas since the weekend, hence my shamefully slow response. Please inform the coastguard, post-haste.
The ship is easy to spot - it's pea green, and the captain is an owl.
I'd like to be rescued. Living on honey is tiresome after a while.


HIM:
I had a funny feeling that might have happend to you. What can I say Ali, never trust a pensioner, there sinister creatures even when its not a pirate in disguise. Seems to be you got yourself into a terrible ordeal here, but fear not for your owl captain is a twat, choosing such a prominent colour for his pirate ship, his capture is inevitable, the metropolitan police force should have no problem putting this nocturnal jack sparrow behind bars. Just to clarify, If I inform the coastguard of your situation, and then utimately save you from a life time of slavery and honey... what do I get out of this, prize money? chocolate? a cuddle?


ME:
I can get you a pussycat as a hostage?


HIM:
That could be good, then I could put it into a hat which would be hilarious. Actually Ali I have a better Idea, come and have a drink with me at some point in the near future, strictly business, it will be good for your soul, and of course if you say no I will not inform the coastguard of your situation


ME:
There is a flaw in your plan... don't you live in Reading? Or am I assuming you do, because you were drinking wine in Reading? Perhaps you don't live in Reading, but just prefer their wine. But, the point was, I don't live in Reading... I've become one of those urban big city dwellers of late, and live in Laaandan town.

And I can't believe you'd blackmail me when I'm already in a perilous sea-faring situation.

You sir, are no gentleman.


HIM:
Ali you are correct, there is a flaw in my plan.. I dont live in Reading, I live in the rarther desolate and deprived town of Bracknell, not too far from Reading, In case you havent heard of Bracknell, Bracknell is a place filled with sadness, weeping childern and broken glass, Reading I find to be equally as poo, only difference is they have nice wine and it is the home of the purple turtle, so any chance I get to go somewhere different like Laaaaaandan town, especially Laaaaaandan town I will embrace it.
So Ali this is no longer a flaw In my plan, its a solution, I live in a crap town, your currently living on a crap colored pirate ship, why not meet In London for a few drinky pops? Just one final thing, I'll have you know I am a gentleman, I only tried to blackmail as I assumed your situation was a slight exaggeration, If you are in fact being held hostage by an owl I'm sorry..


ME:
It's a tawny owl. He's always got a close eye on me. Disconcertingly, even when I'm standing behind him. Or upside down.
You live in Bracknell? You poor thing. You should've said. 
Perhaps I should allow you a brief escape to the shiny lights of the big city.
The roads are paved with gold y'know.

HIM:
Gold you say! my word, how the other half live. Thank you Ali, I always knew one day I would be walking down the golden pavements of the big city.

  I found it quite funny, anyway.
So, yeah, No intention of dating him. He actually goes so far in his affectation as to say 'drinky pops'. But he might be someone who'd appreciate the some of the cartoons i steal from the interweb. Like this one, which I've been waiting for an excuse to post.

So there you have it. An entire post done purely to have an excuse to show this picture which kinda relates.