Every week our inbox is crammed full of press releases. We’re sent anywhere between 100 and 200 on an average day.

We also receive emails from readers, from the bizarre to the outstanding, and as such have decided to start and irregular and possible weekly feature whereby we reveal YOUR letters to our 750,000+ unique monthly users.

So here’s the first one. We’re thinking that this might be for real, or it might be a television show, or it might be a joke, or worse. But if you fit the category of ‘single male geek’ and want to help a reader out in London then do read on…

Pale and pasty geek wanted for casual sex…

I suffer from the compulsive urge to reject suggestive nomenclature – Fitness First? First? Perhaps fitness is a distant third, but definitely not first. I mean sex also burns calories, and quite frankly, I find cross trainers terrifying. Not like ‘your local Catholic priest turning up at your nephew’s first birthday party’ terrifying but still mildly terrifying, like a sandwich from Prets. So to remain vaguely fit I have a choice to make; join a Fitness First filled with terrifying trainers or find a steady lay. Sex FTW.

I could get a boyfriend or Swedish designed vibrator, or get a Swedish boyfriend to buy me a designer vibrator, but again I see a world of problems. Option A leaves you with ‘love’ and that whole issue of soul completing passion that sees you at home together every night, and option B means meeting Swedish parents who try feed you Lutefiske. Neither is appealing, so I choose C – a dependable toyboy to burn calories.

So that’s what I’m looking for; a regular, no strings attached, Boy Toy to double as a treadmill without the Lonely, Dear soundtrack.

You don’t need to be much really – in fact I’d prefer if you weren’t. Just alive, male and able to come around three or four nights a week. And then go home. Always with the going home. And no, I don’t want to come to your crappy flat at Dalston Junction and meet your friends; cross trainers are not that scary.

I’m 28 and relatively hard to get along with. I have one of those preachy moral high ground jobs that generally means most people hate me – but I’m OK with that, I get paid more than you anyhow. I’m not in need of assurance, will leave the lights on (provided you’re waxed) and consider vanilla sex a complete waste of time. I’m good looking, not like model good looking otherwise I’d be a modelling in Milan (der), but have always found that my breasts and cheek bones will get me any thing I want. (Read: I’m infinitely hotter than anything you could normally get your hands on, sir.)

I’d prefer if you are some sort of geek type (someone needs to work out why this shitty MacBook runs so slowly), and aren’t fat. I mean sure ‘programmers podge’ is fine, but that full ‘one ring of lard for every harmony in a Stereolab song’ is a little freaky to be honest.  And hipsters, that’s the other one. If you’re wearing flat soled canvas shoes and listening to Little Boots, I will strangle you.

Oh, and I’m not into training. I trained stock horses half my life (for money, you see), so will not sleep with men younger than me for a hobby of sorts.

Email me -notreece@googlemail.com

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