Wanted: Soulmate

Sam arrives for the weekend, and brings a girl with him. He met her via Guardian Soulmates. He says he wants her to meet Max and me so that she can see that he does know "some married people." She's six feet tall, wears trainers and says nothing. Really. Nothing.

After dinner, Sam suggests that we all go to the pub for a drink, but I can't face it - the idea of a whole evening with a woman who's taken a vow of silence is too much for me, so I claim I have an urgent report to write for work, and send Max off with the lovers. He's much more tolerant than me, as well as being far closer to the girlfriend's height. I have a crick in my neck already.

As soon as they leave, I make a cup of tea and curl up in front of the TV to watch "Buy yourself a home either in this country or somewhere much nicer for far less money." Well, it's legitimate research - The Boss is considering bringing in a bill to restrain estate agents, though I don't think he knows exactly what he means by that.

Anyway, there seem to be more estate agents on TV than anywhere else, and I am in the vanguard of spotting the trend, which used to be what New Labour was all about. As a result, I decide that a glass of wine would be far more Westminster and less constituency than tea, so I switch to Cotes du Rhone.

After one glass, I fall asleep in a neck-paralysing position on the couch, only waking when Max, Sam and the Tall Enigma come in and catch me drooling all down the front of my TV-watching fleece. Max is roaring drunk, and the lovers are eager to get to bed - so I wait 'til they've gone upstairs, then say,

"So, how did it go?"

"Never been so bored in my life," says Max.

"Did she speak at all?" I say. They've been gone for four hours...

"Well, she told a few rude jokes and then they spent the rest of the night talking about rugby. It was like a night out with your Dad."

"Oh God, That's it!" All has become clear.

"What's it?" says Max or, rather, "Whasht-it?"

"What Sam sees in her," I say. "She shares his interests."

"Too true," says Max, and passes out attractively on the couch.

I wait 'til he starts drooling, then cover him with a blanket and go to bed. At least our house is going to bear witness to some sex tonight, I suppose - though I hope the Tall Enigma doesn't bring rugby moves to the bedroom. The spare bed has a really wobbly headboard.