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Looking for a Mate in the Jungle

A smart bloke's guide to finding love and companionship whilst trying to stand up straight.

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OK so you're ready. You've shaved the bum fluff off your top lip, teased your David Beckham fringe into the perfect position. You've drenched yourself in CkB and brushed the cat hairs off the Armani shirt. You Calvin's are fresh, your teeth are clean. You are the man. Every lass in town is thinking your clothes off as you walk in the doorway. So how do you pull? How do you really pull? Well you need your people, just like Mike Tyson. And if you're a stud, you have to choose your mates carefully. Like it's a bank heist.

The Gettaway Guy. He's number one. He's a petrolhead par-excellence. Tip. Keep him sweet with new car-porno brochures (currently into the new Audi like the rest of us are into Gail Porter). Got his licence at seventeen after a year of driving illegally. He owns two Opel Mantras. One is pristine and shines like Jennifer Aniston's backside. The other is in his mum's garden in bits. He's your best friend. Goes to Glastonbury or Silverstone but prefers the journey, not the destination, like a true Zen Buddhist. Role model? Jeremy Clarkson, meet Jenson Button.

True value? Always good for a lift. Never drinks. Gets you home however rat-arsed you get. Makes you look good.

The Bodyguard. He's number two. Tip. Always keep him sweet with good wrap-around sunglasses and Notorious B*I*G tapes. He's your unofficial bodyguard, and round-buyer. Dresses like a tent catalogue, but never mind. Always good for a curry and good at breaking up fights. Works in a supermarket warehouse so he's always good for a bit of knockoff, especially if the place has a licence. He's your best friend. Role model? Any black hip-hop act with folded arms and bad jewellery. Role model? Biggie Smalls, meet Lou Costello.

True value. Drags you out of drunken arguments. Pays for the food and drink. Makes you look good.

The Clown. He's number three. Mouth almighty. Tip. Always keep him sweet with the latest Red Dwarf/Bill Hicks/Chris Rock/Eddie Izzard videos. Really into Roy "Chubby" Brown because of his Dad, who he calls Homer. His Dad doesn't get it. Dresses like a kids TV presenter, but never mind. He's your best friend. Is always first up on Karaoke night and picks songs by Abba or Madonna and won't let go of the microphone. Tries to do Stand-up but usually is too legless by the time he's gotten enough Dutch courage. Good for bad jokes when the lasses aren't falling for the pitter patter. Role model? Craig Charles meet Daffy Duck.

True value. Does all the talking. Does all the true chat up.Is always the first one the cops arrest, usually because he called the big ugly one Officer Dibble. Makes you look good.

The Little Big Man. Number Four. Cock of the school when he was eleven, then he stopped growing. Can be picked up with one hand. Bitter and twisted. Keep him sweet with True Life Murder paperbacks. Most of the time he's doing bad inpersonations of Joe Pesci in The Goodfellas, but on the pull he thinks he's Brad Pitt and will always make a beeline for the best looking squeeze in the nightclub. Won't give up, so we have to mosey over and save the poor girls from his tirade of insults when they give him the finger. He's your best friend. Makes a living through dodgy dealing and stealing cars from the town centre. Call him a nasty piece of work, and his face lights up like a derelict factory. Role model? Dolf Lundgren, meet Jiminy Cricket.

True value. Takes the punches and the blame. Always has cigarettes coming out of his ears. Sometimes literally. Makes you look good.

The Gargoyle Number Five. Looks like an extra from the Addams Family. Is chuffed to bits when you tell him. Keep him sweet with the latest trendy Aftershave. Can pick you up with one hand. He's convinced that girls like men who have character and always seems to leave the nightclub with the cloakroom attendant, which explains why when we're out there in the snow in our shorts and skinny Ts he's walking round like Kenny in South Park. He's your best friend. When he's chatting up the local supermodel, you're there keeping her best mate company. Role model? Mick Hucknall, meet Mick Hucknall.

True value. Always chatting up the good lookers. Buys the girls Sloe Comfortable Screws. Makes you look good.

So at the end of the night, when you are face down in the gutter, and sobbing because you're a car-free wimp with no personality, even less courage, no looks and living with your mum, there's always a bunch of mates to pick you up, dust you off and dump you on the doorstep. Naked but for a traffic cone on your head and a carnation up yer backside. See you next week, lads. It's a jungle out there...

Roy Stone__________________