I went to see some a friend do some comedy on Monday, at the Cavendish Arms. It turned into one of the most bizarre evenings of my life.

Not enough acts turned up, as isn't unusual on an open-mike night. One chap had brought a lady along on a date, a musician. She volunteered to sing a couple of comic songs to pad out the show.

When his turn came, he proceeded to regale us with sordid tales of his Internet dating. Very sordid tales. The man a colossal pervert, basically.

Meanwhile, his date was squirming. Clearly this was all news to her. When she came up for her act she told the entire audience that she was never, never going to sleep with him now. Never ever.

She then proceeded to blow the rest of the acts off the stage. Funny, and a superb pianist. "Padding out" my, err, hat.

Somehow, I ended up with her phone number. I have no idea how - it's just so unlike me. I mean, with her date still around. Very alpha-male; not me at all. Must have been the Red Stripe.

So, should I ring her?