We have two free evening papers here, so tripe that the homeless won't even use their pages to wipe up they mess the do, often on themselves. This character called Peaches turns up in them all the time. One is called The London Lite and the other is The London Paper, which is owned by Rupert Murdoc from the A-Team. Both really are as bad as each other, which is why I can't remember which has the funniest column in it.
The section I'm talking about is where desperados write into the paper to say they chatted up someone on the tube the previous evening, but didn't manage to seal the deal and get a number - "I was on the Central line at 7 o'clock and wanted to boff you, my secret lady in beige. Meet me by the sex shop in Soho if you're keen," kinda thing.
So, I'm introducing the same brilliant idea on my blog. Just email me a info@loudandquiet.com if you're a sex pest/lonely wanker/Sting who's seen someone out and about and let's see if they're not too weirded out to get in touch. I floated the idea on myspace and got this one back straight away...
"I was the fuzzy-faced short-arse, hanging out with my acne-ridden pal. You were any number of the young girls, drinking in the Uxbridge Weatherspoons, playing on a pub quiz game that looked like a right hoot. If you fancy putting your hand in the box on my lap, meet me in Yates's wine lodge in Leicester Sq to see if you've made the right deal, this Sunday!"
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