Two Irrigate or not Two Irrigate

Am not entirely sure if this post is taking the blogging a little too far but as the Duchess of York will tell you, you don't really know if you've taken something too far until it's on the front page of News of the World. I mean, who am I to judge (just kidding) and who's to say this wouldn't be an incredibly exciting, liberating opportunity to meet new people? I mean, when you think of it like that, it's actually my duty to write about it.

So what is it this glorious little snippet of information, I hear you ask? What possibly does she know that I don't? Is she keeping this little gem all to herself? No way, Jose. This one is ripe for sharing.

Last night I found myself at a lovely networking internet-type event speaking to a lovely, "incredibly" successful internet-type entrepreneur (who shall remain anonymous to protect the colonically challenged) who invited me to share the joys of colonic irrigation....with him.

So this really begs the question: Is colonic irrigation the new hot spot for meeting people? Can you create a moment with a 12 foot tube inserted in your rectum? People, I really don't know the answer but I implore you to give it a red hot go. Find someone who thinks colon cleanliness is next to godliness on HelloPulse

Get yourself on the honours list

I don't know what it is about returning to a university campus that warms the soul. Flashbacks to 12 hours of lectures a week, 4 hours of attendance at lectures per week, intense study groups at the local pub as your feet stick to the carpet and your head spins from that musty smell of spilt beer and, snoozing on the faculty lawn next to dreadlocked students whose hair smells the same as the carpet in the pub. Whatever it is, those fond memories came rushing back at the Vampire Weekend concert at Kings College.

For entertainment purposes, forget about the gig and focus on the audience as university campuses (campi?) are hotbeds of talent and let's face it, there's nothing more attractive than a fresh-faced student with big plans and too much time on their hands.

Stop washing your hair and find yourself a hot, single student on HelloPulse

Football. Sure it's boring but.....

So one day, an investment banker friend invited me to see Chelsea play (I reference his career because then I don't have to gloat about how good the seats were). I'm always up for new experiences and more importantly, am partial to some artifically flavoured, synthetic innards in a bun (sometimes referred to as hot dogs) so jumped at the chance.

The game began and as you already know if you've been to a football match before, it was really boring. If it wasn't for my hot dog, pint of beer in a plastic cup and facebook for blackberry, I probably would have self-combusted. However my friends, that's not the point. The point is this: there are two very real benefits for women to be derived from going to a football match. Firstly, no queuing for the women's toilets and secondly, a stadium full of men - half of whom will be jubilant and will want to celebrate and half of whom will be devastated and want a little hug. Now all you single ladies (to borrow from Beyonce) I can't vouch for quality (there seemed to be a disproportionate quantity of tattoos and mullets) however, I assume as women of the world, you will apply your own filter.

Go forth and find some synthetic sausage-loving singles on HelloPulse

Salute the sun, Rising locust. Why do you ask, Two Dogs?

It's one of life's little mysteries why straight single men tend to hang out in packs of straight single men. I am too busy enjoying my carrot cake to even bother trying to solve this little conundrum but I will share with you a little tip.

If I was a single straight guy, after getting over the joys of peeing standing up and playing with my chest hair, I would be high-tailing my way to a pilates or yoga class. Why you ask? Single boys are crazy....do I have to spell it out for you?

Single women. Leotards. Confined Space. Captive audience.

Find yourself a person who knows that a downward dog isn't a free-falling canine at HelloPulse

Tip of the week: Picking up on Public Transport

So the other day I was sitting upstairs (obviously) on the number 23 bus merrily making my way back from Soho when I get a tap on the shoulder. I turn around and this man passes me a note. I read it waiting to find out where to send my £5,000 to help his dying mother who got caught in the volcanic ash shenanigans and is now stuck in Nigeria, desperate to find her way back to her son in London.

But no. The note read as follows: "Hello. I am deaf and cannot speak to you. You look very nice" (clearly this man didn't know me). "Can I add you as my friend on facebook?"

Of course, I replied "oh that's lovely. I'm really quite thrilled that you would like to add me to your facebook friends particularly after you've obviously formed a strong connection with my back. However, I only add people I know or I think may have a relatively good chance of winning an Olympic marathon medal to my facebook community". He looked at me blankly - he wasn't making the deaf part up.

So my point is this. While public transport can be a festering pool of disease it can also be a veritable pool of talent and opportunity. Have your pen and paper ready, people..you never know who you might pick up. And when your oyster card expires, get yourself on to HelloPulse

The Stimulus Package...

Now I don't know what it is about lovers of coffee, but those who love the bean tend to be passionate people. And although passionate people can be quite frankly, somewhat perplexing with their random outbreaks of tears that disappear as quickly as they start, crazy-arsed rants about political articles they find on facebook, tourettes syndrome-like outbursts when their hollandaise sauce is a little too vinegary on their eggs benedict, sudden fits of violence when they find out Britney Spears has lip-sync'd her way through her comeback performance and days of self-induced solitude when it's apparent that Tiger Woods has failed us all by developing a sex addiction.....they are, lets face it, entertaining.

Watch this special breed as they search out their favourite destination for the perfect cup of coffee. Yes folks, you'll see them update flickr with a picture of the brown liquid goodness then they'll wax lyrical about "their" genius barista who's won awards at every world coffee making competition (which always tend to take place in Liverpool). No Starbucks for these people (unless they're using the toilets or stealing the napkins), these people are connoisseurs (which is French for freak of nature) and will settle for nothing less than the perfect brew.

So people, if you have the patience of a saint and are prepared to put up with a little craziness in exchange for bucket loads of passion (Italian for hot in the sack), then get yourself down to your nearest coffee hotspot to meet great singles at HelloPulse.

Check out single coffee connoissuers at Kaffeine
Check out lovers of the stumpy at Fernandez and Wells
Check out single latte freaks at Caravan in Exmouth Market
Check out machiato maniacs at Monmouth

Sing us a song you're the Piano Man

What do you get if you mix the plum in David Cameron's mouth with the irony of someone called Lord Adonis and a touch of Sarah Ferguson's crassness (post Royal title, pre Weight Watchers)?

Answer: The Piano Bar on a Friday night.

It's all the things you'd expect plus much, much more from a Friday evening in South Kensington. On the entertainment stakes, it over delivers - watch as polite conversation turns to drunken hugging, as the cigarette lighters start waving and the misty eyes gleam lovingly at the piano man (surely he's not gay????) The show tunes are belted out with more contemporary numbers and patron requests (which will be ignored by the piano man unless some poor sap has plied him with alcohol).

The Piano Bar is a great little venue oh so conveniently located opposite the South Ken tube and next to McDonalds (so you can down a BigMac and throw french fries at the other patrons once the Piano closes).

So get your vocal chords down to Sth Ken tonight and find yourself a single toff at the Piano Bar on HelloPulse

The Frontline Club: Investigative Dating

Now I've often thought that drinking should be combined with more activities in our lives - why aren't there hairdresser bars, for example? I know my haircut would be a lot more cutting edge if I was trolleyed whilst succumbing to the scissors. So how excited was I on discovering the Frontline Club in Paddington whose mission is to combine eating, drinking and thinking! Because in my experience, thinking becomes so much more interesting whilst drinking. Ask anyone!

The Frontline Club puts on regular events on hot topics including climate change, war and aid and political issues and, is a sanctuary for those who are passionate about independent journalism - writers, photographers, diplomats and aid workers. More importantly, it's a hot bed of intellectual singles. Bring it on.

Get your thinking cap on at The Frontline Club

Hold the phone...

Is Heston Blumenthal hot? I just saw him doing his little food-based science experiments and it made me feel all warm inside.

Am just throwing it out there, people....

Find someone who can put a fire under your Bunsen Burner on HelloPulse.com

Meeting Hotties - Tip of the Week

Ladies and Gentlemen, I'd like to introduce the tip of the week for picking up hotties - Foreign Accent Syndrome.

For those poor souls who have never been exposed (in a non-flasher sort of way) to a foreigner, this tip may come as a surprise to you. Foreign accents are hot. So if you don't have one, then may I strongly suggest you acquire one, pronto. How, I hear you ask? I was born two blocks from Cheryl Cole and no one understands me anyway, how am I going to master a foreign accent?

Don't worry, my dear friends. Lucky for you, we have recently witnessed our first case of Foreign Accent Syndrome. Simply give yourself a good knock on the head and pick up a new accent. Our top recommendations (if you have any control when you regain consciousness) are as follows:
1) Italian after a couple of glasses of pinot
2) Chinese but watch a lot of US television
3) Argentinian whilst riding a horse and playing polo (i.e a little breathless but still rugged)
4) Tongan (I just thought I'd throw that one in there for my own amusement)
5) Swedish (so you have an excuse to make random references to hot tubs)

Find someone you can't understand on HelloPulse.com

I'm Just a Teenage Dirtbag Baby. Rockaoke at the Roadhouse

Let's face it, nothing says sexy better than a tone-deaf rendition of a once popular rock anthem. Watching a X-Factor wannabe belting out an angst-filled version of "Teenage Dirtbag" whilst working the crowd with eyes closed and prerequisite boy band moves, makes me feel all warm inside.

So nothing makes me happier than a little trip down to the Roadhouse in Covent Garden on a Wednesday night. The Roadhouse delivers on so many fronts - you get frisked at the front door then get to walk through the metal detector (so delightfully hardcore) then you descend into the entertainment area (and I do not use this term lightly) where you can buy a whole round of drinks for £14. Unprecedented value, people! What more could you ask for, I hear you scream? Well, I'll tell you. Entertainment galore!!!

After knocking back the cheapest drinks in London, I was very close to getting up and performing Whitney Houston's "I will always love you" (the drug affected version where she can't hit the high notes or remember the words but fills the awkward silences by swaying and looking comatosed and confused at the audience) but unfortunately, I had performance anxiety. The talent is too good at the Roadhouse - watch as one person after another gets up and belts out a tune with the live band. But never fear, even with performance anxiety, you can hold hands and hug the crowd because you're just a teenage dirtbag baby, like me.

See who else wants to form a boy band on HelloPulse at The Roadhouse

Rolling on wheels and jocking for singles.

Strap on your spandex and warm up your hot pants, it's Roller Disco time.

Roller Disco in the Renaissance Rooms is the perfect weekend entertainment. Glide across the floor in your sequined bandeau and make (blue eyeshadow) eyes at the adoring crowd - they're loving you (trust me). With your feet rolling on eight wheels, the wind in your hair and the smell of incense lingering, catapult yourself (literally) into the kaftan-clad hotty loitering in the corner. Aahhhh, the seventies...where did it all go wrong?

Get yourself a roller-skating, flared trouser-wearing, glam-rock loving, date this weekend on Hello Pulse at Roller Disco in the Renaissance Rooms

Late at Tate is late enough for early drinks.

Art and Alcohol, Alcohol and Art...surely this has to be the new therapy, the new AA? Now please don't misinterpret, the only art I claim to find remotely interesting is the type that involves smashing red wax into the walls of the Royal Academy (I heart you, Anish Kapoor) but even I could become an art buff when it comes to a little social interaction at the Tate Britain on the first Friday of every month.

Wine and subliminal music can work wonders for breaking the ice so instead of admiring paintings in silence, take a few sips of a cheeky sauvignon blanc and mutter your thoughts to a nearby pseudo art lover who's also staring puzzled and perplexed at a Henry Moore sculpture. Magic moments don't come better than that, people. I tell you, you'll be boring your grandkids with this story one day.

So from 6pm to 8pm on the first Friday of every month, Late Tate is a terrific way of enjoying art, a few drinks and finding singles under the same roof. Get your booty into Banksy and see who else is going to the Tate on HelloPulse.com

Add Late at Tate as your favourite activity.

Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Muddiness

I don't know about you people but I rarely need an excuse to roll around in mud and as we all know, the best, most exciting relationships begin with a close encounter with dirt.

The trouble is, it's very hard to find a legitimate way to do this in polite company without unwanted side effects. I mean, you can visit a farm and risk a close encounter with manure, you can pay £100 for a beauty therapist to slather you in the stuff and then listen to her valuable feedback on the size of your pores, you can head down to mud-wrestler...you get the picture. But rest assured mud-lovers, there's now a viable solution.

British Military Fitness offers you the opportunity to meet new people and roll around in mud under the pretence of exercise. Joy, joy, happiness. The really good news is that everyone is sweaty, smelly, muddy and most likely hungover so you know that there is absolutely no chance of someone falling for you just because you're hot.

Meet smelly, muddy singles on HelloPulse at British Military Fitness

Heading East in search of a Ray of Sunshine

Bank Holiday weekend in a warm, dry, balmy London. Frolic half-naked in the park, laze in the sunshine, radiate warmth with the joy of spring in the city. Scratch that.

So the only warmth we were getting on this miserable long weekend was the hot, drunken breath of the customers at 93 Feet East. Don't get us wrong, hot drunken breath is a fine substitute for warm spring days and when it's in such an awesome venue then it can leave you feeling just as jubilant/intoxicated (same thing, no?)

93 Feet East is a great club opposite the Old Truman Brewery off Brick Lane. Love the live music but the best part ladies and gentlemen, is that it's a thriving hot spot for singles on both a Saturday and Sunday night. If you can't get a "Ray of Sunshine" in London town, get yourself a "Ray" or "Raylene" instead at 93 Feet East (ok that didn't really work but do you see what we were trying to do with that little play on words?)

See you there. Search for Hot Breathy Singles who hang at 93 Feet East