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It is wrapped in brown paper, rather than cellophane, which makes me wonder whether he's just stolen it from someone's garden.He is wearing a black satin shirt, which seems a little inappropriate for our midday meeting, and reeks of cheap aftershave.He wants to spend Christmas with me, so that he can make me feel 'delicious all over'.
Alex has a European accent and claims to be from Paris, but is vague about where in the city, saying 'you wouldn't have heard of it' - which is as insulting as it is unbelievable.
I attach a couple of glamorous photos: one a close-up of my face in full make-up and the other a full-length shot of me in Lycra gym gear. who clearly don't regard the 6,000-mile distance between us as any hurdle to the path of true love.
No sooner do I hit the send button than the responses start to pour in. They all look as if they could be Britney Spears' chavvier brothers and that every meal they eat comes from a takeaway chicken bucket.
He wants me to be his sugar mummy - someone to dress him, pamper him and travel the world with, all at my expense, of course.
He is so persistent that I'm tempted to come clean and tell him that I'm mortgaged to the hilt, live on my overdraft and any clothes I might buy him are more likely to come from Primark than Prada.When I attempt to speak to him in French, he looks utterly horrified and declares that it is his rule to speak only English when he is in England.He is clearly an Eastern European who has convinced himself that a smooth-talking Parisian will have more luck with the (very wealthy) ladies. Selector .selector_input_interaction .selector_input. Selector .selector_input_interaction .selector_spinner.