What it takes to be a man.

There's a perfectly valid reason why I don't have a girlfriend. I never put myself in the position to meet one. No, of course, I do spend half of my existance in the pub which is a social haven and allegedly ideal for meeting a better half.

But if you're looking for a close girlfriend, you probably shouldn't rely on last orders at the bar with beer goggles a'present and a desire not to go home alone.

I think my problem is that I'm far too direct. I go from a casual first meeting to rampant doggystyle in her empty flat without so much as a coffee date along the way. And by the time its over, I'm already thinking of what I can be doing the following morning to merit a hasty exit. I've been through birthdays, work commitments, dentist appointments. I vaguely recall using the ridiculous line that I had to get back to take my rabbits to the vet.

Maybe I'm just light years behind in the emotional development of what a relationship entails, but I feel like I'm living two lives. One inside my head, one for everybody else to see. I genuinely would quite like a bit of stability and comfort at this point.

You know what I find really amusing? The templates folder of my phone, actually.

"I'm going 2 be late."

"Call me when u get this message."

"I love you."

And my favourite of them all, for those occasions where sincerity and time are both an issue...

"I love you too."

How much of a stockbroker do you have to be to send your lover a message of sweet nothings pre-written by a Nokia phone technician?

I can't stand lazy convenience technology at the best of the times. But this is just like one of those cyber sex programs where the actions are point-and-click based. So much for the vivid personal imagination! Not that I put mine to use where cyber sex is concerned...

I'm sitting here, scratching my head, trying to work out what possessed me to buy a KFC Family Bucket last night. It was like eating from a troth. Two drunken savages ripping drumstick and breast open like we hadn't dined for days. Bloody good meal though. Shame about the chips.

Anyway, I was in Camden for a friend's birthday gig, and I managed - by chance - to bump in to another random friend who I really wasn't expecting to see at all. And then, by even more chance, I rambled over the phone to a saucy random friend of said random friend who I'm already random friends with. Unfortunately, she's probably a little traumatised now that my mates have chanted malicious rumours regarding the size of my manhood at her.

To clarify, I am at least double the one inch that they suggested. Besides, they wouldn't even know. Very few can truly claim to have gone head to head with my mythological beast (although tours are going half price if you're interested...err, festive season and all that)

On a mildly less repulsive note, Zico Chain were excellent at what they did. I can't say I'm a massive fan of the genre but for somebody who's in to their scene, it must have been a great experience.

The opening act, Shibby, who I've actually spoken to through my website, were good sports too and had far more energy than I could muster in a thick leather coat with a pint in my hand. Overall, it was a good night and my appetite is deliciously perked for the almighty experience of shape busting when of Montreal roll in to town next month.

If last night was seminal 90's rock, December 6th will be 70's disco pomp. I'm frigging loving it.

Frigging? See that. You can go back and read every blog of mine and you won't find a single swear word. And that's for three reasons, that is.

Firstly, I'm avoiding censorship from a nunhouse where a glamorous little minx resides. She's tiny and reads far too much. So I'm trying to save her mother Christmas expenses on books and - knowing the girl in question quite well - probably an annual subscription to Cosmo magazine too. Not that my scribbles can compare to such a sacred woman's literature, obviously.

Secondly, swearing is far too easy. I like being adjectively challenged.

And finally, those of you who know me we'll be sniggering to hear it, but I'm trying to re-style myself as a true English gentleman.

Oh it's true.

I've started giving up my train seat to hot women and everything.