Invariably it is coupled with rumours that there may be a dysfunctional DNA strain in the family and hastily hushed conversations about lead and pencils amongst Great Aunts and Grandparents.

I've tried a few dates before, but I seem to have reached the age when hair begins to sprout from every part of the body except for the top of my head, and that the second question I'm asked by a potential partner is, "how old are you?".

Enjoying the date Iain?

But hope springs eternal and I set off to a VIP Adrenaline Speed Dating event in Grimsby astride my white charger, masquerading as a rather tired estate car, with more miles on the clock than the Star Ship Enterprise.

With a mixture of nervousness and excitement and an unhealthy preoccupation with the performance of my underarm deodorant I paid my money and warmed an ever changing table and chair.

To my surprise it was great fun, almost like a childhood party where everyone is nice to each other until they play the Pass the Parcel game.

But with only three minutes to chat to each potential party member, the jellies were never spilt and the sausages stayed on their sticks.

Will she fall for Iain's charms?

Nobody was more surprised than me when the mobile rang the next day and my aspirations were confirmed or in the language of the school disco " I'd pulled a bird".

All those nights practising my David Hasselhoff
walk had paid off, me and Kitt were cruising tonight. Beep Beep. Now for the coolest line, "Hi, would you like to come for a dinner date live on The Mix program in the BBC Radio Lincolnshire studio?"

The tumbleweed was beginning to blow past the Cathedral when she eventually said "Yes".

She was a little late, but then, the nice girls always are, and I re-heated the Chinese Takeaway in the microwave.

The door opened and beauty breezed in closely followed by style and class. I wanted to throw rose petals in front of her every step, but figured the cleaners would give me hell on Monday.

"Don't bottle it now" I thought. I was playing way out of my league and this was Gasworks Rovers away at Arsenal in the cup, everyone wants to score but nobody stands a chance.

We'd decided to dress for dinner and she looked fantastic, that was one incredible dress, I don't know how she got into it, but I'll dream for years about how she gets out of it.

My black tie and D.J. made me look just like James Bond. Well probably more like his fourth cousin removed on his mothers side, but hey who cares, I was with the belle of the ball.

We had a mutual interest in motorbikes, and I impressed her with tales of my daily commute in Birmingham on a C90 Scooter, and she talked about riding her Fireblade on the Isle of Man T.T. Course.

It was one-nil, "own goal" after the first five minutes. I responded with daring tales of business flights to Germany, duty free and Bratwurst sausages, and she told me about living in California and working for Ducati Motorbikes.

Two- Nil and I was down to ten men. I needed fresh legs and brought on a substitute. I boasted about my 5 hour London Marathon. She told me about her days as a Fitness Instructor and seven day a week training programs.

It was three-nil at half time and I needed something more than sliced oranges and a good rub down if I was going to secure a home replay.

Ten men often play with better spirit than eleven and this was my rallying call. Socks pulled up, shin guards checked and run back out for the second half.

I joshed and joked, looked wind swept and interesting at every possible moment and remembered to smile as the flickering fluorescent light silhouetted my profile against the store room door.

This was a class performance from a reserve team player and I was running rings round her in the second half.

"Commonwealth Games Trials?", "Ahem, Well I don't like to boast!". Three-one and I was playing down the slope.

"Played a lot of Rugby?", "Just a tad in the National Leagues?". Yes ! Good Goal , three-two. A thirty yard volley from the edge of the box.

The crucial third goal and important equaliser was proving more difficult than I thought, I could feign injury and dive in the penalty area, but a man's got his standards. So I gave it one last go with stories of adventures in the Swiss Alps, it was a goal mouth scramble, but it did cross the line.

Three All. Return fixture confirmed, date to be arranged, ticket only but with a much smaller crowd expected. " I was over the moon Brian.