The London Paper runs a column every day, where city singletons who glimpsed someone on the tube lay their hearts on the line and pop out a free ad to see if they can make something meaningful out of a chance encounter. They’re about as specific as a horoscope, so to test our theory that anything, no matter how random or general could bag itself an entry, Paul Nesbitt and I came up with the androgynous name Sam Tressle and wrote our own. Rich spotted it printed in last night’s edition.

Theory proved.

1. Cheese!
   Princess Margaret has died. I thought Chelmer FM was playing rather dreary music when I switched it on. They were playing 'I Hope I'm Old...
   
   
2. Smashing Cheese, Grommit
   So we finally went to see Wallace and Gromit in The Curse of the Were-Rabbit last night. As usual we'd left it so late that...
   
   
3. Cheese
   I extracted my travelogue from my Handspring today and pasted it into a document (I would say Word document, but I'm an Openoffice convert). It...