It's definitely over. The passion gone. The thumping heart so passe. I am no longer as smooth as silk and the the plucking, exfoliating days are already over, the sexy knicks at the back of the drawer. And am I bovvered? No. No more could I stand the dates that involved yet another episode of Inspector Frost and a (dirty ) glass of wine in the coldest flat this side of Serbia. His latest attempt to woo me was a text stating Am not doing much, bottle of wine and a footie match on TV? Do I fancy it? Do I f*ck! I realised I was going out with a teenage boy stuck in a man's body. In fact I am doing teenage boys a discredit as my son puts more effort into his relationship. Anyway stroll on by Ole Twinkly Eyes as your time is done.