[Anybody familiar with The London Paper's "Lovestruck" feature will hopefully understand where this is coming from]

To the beautiful Asian girl at the Royal Oak in Harrow last Friday night. I kept staring at you and eventually I plucked up the courage to smile and say hello, but then you left suddenly and I didn't get a chance to ask you out. Drink?

We met at Kings Cross station, 10-30, last Tuesday. I was the sexy 20-year-old blonde whose daddy owns half of Surrey. You were the scruffy-looking coke-addict who smelled of cat's piss. Damn, I wish I'd got your number. Fancy a shag?

To the school girl in the knee-high socks on the 8-15 from Clapham Junction on April 17th, 2008. I was the balding 40-year-old failed chartered accountant whose marriage has been on the rocks lately. We stood next to each other in the over-crowded carriage for five-and-a-half minutes. You made my day. ANON.

The Metropolitan Line, last Thursday evening: You were the stunning lady in the short flowery skirt who got off at Watford and then cut across the park, down past the paddling pool and that miniature railway then over the bridge by the canal next to the woods. I lost which way you went after that. Fancy a hiking trip for two in the Lake District next weekend?

To James from Luton who I spent all evening talking to at The World's End in Camden a couple of weeks ago. I'm so sorry I had to leave before I got a chance to ask you for your cute friend's phone number. He's a real hunk, isn't he?!! Tell him to get in touch. J.

You were the gorgeous guy I performed oral sex on in the Gents' Toilets on Hampstead Heath, Wednesday last week. I wish I'd asked you your name. Coffee?