Well you know the recession has really hit when the prostitutes are buying their own drinks. Last year the ladies of the night were working 24 hour shifts, bed hopping from suite to suite, heard but not seen. But this year they were hanging out in the Radisson bar sipping mineral water, adjusting their knee high boots and waiting for calls. Some people are bewildered why anyone pays for sex during the races with so much available for free, but as Martin Amis pointed out, you don’t pay a prostitute for sex, you pay her to leave. Any bloke who has tried to extract himself from the morning after number swapping conversation will understand the logic.

The week started off relatively quiet at the races as a lot of the usual suspects didn’t show up, plus an entire demographic of society vanished – men in their 30’s. I did consider filing a missing people report. Normally I would say they got lost en route to the races except there were so many transport options this year; flights were abundant, helicopters sat idle and even taxis were easily got. It was particularly entertaining to hear all the justifications for public over private transport (other than money) – who knew Climate Change could provide such a cover all excuse?

Overall the atmosphere didn’t match the ‘last-days-of-the-empire’ vibe of the previous year. Not a bad thing. Crowds improved on Thursday even if the weather didn’t, forcing most people to stay in the Champagne tent. DP sales were down and sparkling wine was up and only the big winners and dealers were splashing out. The biggest betting coup of the week was off the track.

In a stroke of marketing genius Paddy Power gave out pink flip flops at the end of Ladies Day ensuring that they were the topic of conversation for the evening and winning the undying gratitude of men all over the city who were no longer forced to walk slowly and listen to endless complaints about sore shoes. The sight of hundreds of women in stunning designer dresses with day glo pink plastic shoes walking in the pouring rain was also pretty entertaining.
My week went well. I enjoyed some harmless flirtation and good banter but found that I was missing Garda Nick and even considered that it might be time to hang up my single shoes. The thought no sooner entered my head when “Trouble” showed up……

Well it’s that time of year again, The Galway Races, so I’m off……..Normally I don’t go down for the start of the week, but it’s getting a bit like Disney land where you have to show up really early to be in with a chance of getting on the good rides.

I suspect things will be a bit calmer than last year. Apparently it is the first time in 7 years that the Radisson isn’t sold out and you can still get flights! Brian Cowen has a lot to answer for cancelling that tent. In deference to the recession I will be taking the train Monday afternoon.

Unless there is some major gossip ( likely ) which I am in a condition to post about ( unlikely ) it will be next week before blogging resumes. Have a good week.

I was contacted to do a piece on Internet Dating, but couldn’t find enough positive things to say, so here is the unpublishable warts-and-all version.

Step 1 - Securing a Date

You would imagine getting a date is pretty easy on an Internet dating site, I mean why else would you join? Well apparently some people seem to to think it is “pen-pals-r-us” as they keep emailing back and forth. You can’t even get to the ballpark let alone first base.

Learn from my mistakes, if there is no request to meet after a month – give up. Do you really want to date someone who can’t get up the nerve to ask you out? (also dating sites are notorious for having bogus people who email you, particularly around the time payment is due). Try to avoid asking blokes out. At best you are on the back foot or even worse - rejected.

Assuming someone does ask to meet, certain rules apply, such as the day of the week hierarchy:

Fri/Sat – good dating nights, guy is super interested or may have no friends. Bit of a gamble so try my ‘meet early for a drink trick’ if you are really eager.

Thurs – best dating night as it is semi-casual, you can have some drinks, but still keep the weekend free for meeting people the traditional way while pissed in a pub.

Wed – fine for a second date if you are doing cinema or coffee.

Mon/Tues – signals you are down his list of priorities and he is saving the “good” nights for a better prospect, never agree to meet until your date night is upgraded or you have an equally low opinion of him.

Sun – you’re probably hung over, look like shit and have the desperate ‘single on Sunday’ vibe, avoid

Do not agree to pencil the guy in 3 weeks from Wednesday as that’s your first opening. Hard to get is good, impossible to get is not. Of course getting the date is simple, surviving it is another matter………

Well its official I am eating for two - well technically eating as two. The huge downside of dating is the upsize in weight. Gone are the empty presses in the kitchen, a bowl of Special K in front of the TV and fat free trips to the cinema. Now I need to keep normal food in the house ( Dr Garda Nick likes his meat and two veg), TV watching is accompanied by a take-away and bottle of vino and the cinema has become an orgy of 16 litre coke cups, churns of ice cream and a Noah’s ark of pick’n’mix ( 2 of every sweet ).

I am now back in my fat clothes. Of course I realise that all this moaning will be received as sympathetically as a Lotto millionaires’ agony on what to buy first. But problems are all relative. Currently I am very concerned at the relative distance between my thighs; the friction generated when I walk could be used as an alternate energy source. Least I become too depressed I just need to remind myself that breaking-up is the ultimate diet. Until then I’ll just wear elasticated trousers and think thin thoughts.