On Why Hippies Should Not Organise Speed Dating Events

In the Slag & Lettuce we sat having a drink and were eyed by a man on a mission. He came over to give us a postcard about his upcoming speed dating event (we must have looked like two girls in need of swift intervention - looks can be deceiving, I have to say). I've never been on a speed date (which incidentally don't come in ones) but I do know a girl who has. Much merriment and fun to be had by all accounts but not many appropriate partners to be found.

Anyway, he was a young thing with a goatee beard and a group of friends drinking with him for moral support - his aim that evening was to pass out cards to as many people as possible, trying to get men involved because there are always too many women (which made me wonder if people were invited or were allowed to just turn up - what do you do if 75% of those who show up are women - do they do like in dances and just speed date with each other for practice until a male is available?) So he was a student earning some dosh on the side and we had quite a funny time finding out why he was doing this and how long for etc etc.

Which comes to why hippies should not do this kind of work. Think of the Tequila Girl - ballsy, tarty, talk to anyone types - you can see them drumming up trade for such an event and men will be persuaded by her short skirt, lipstick and straightened hair (if they all look like her it'll be a goer). Or think of the Ann Summer's Party Rep - a little bit more suburban and respectable, until the day of the do - good understanding and sympathetic ear types who can really get a girl talking. But a hippy bloke who's studying science and could just be dipping into the nerdy - not really enough bubble and oomph to drum up anything much apart from a good long chat to a couple of women who probably wouldn't go in for it even if they were single. So suddenly at 10.30 he realised he had the whole pub to get round with his advertising and went off to promote his event. Eventually made it back for the rest of his beer by last orders, complaining that he's crap at this and admitting that the whole time he had been away he had managed to chat to one whole other group only. I laughed so much my hair caught a spark from a candle on the table and we had to pat the flames out before my whole head went up (hate the smell of burning hair).