This could be my lucky day!

Not only a house full of testosterone, with plumbers, sparkies and chippies ripping up carpets and floorboards, sawing, drilling and screwing.

But also.... this afternoon John-the-Sweep arrived. Now, you know what they say about chimney sweeps:
Lucky, lucky, lucky!

He shook my hand, and gave me a sooty kiss on each cheek!

Then, out of the blue, my lovely young neighbour, who has escaped to the country from Chelsea, phoned.
"Hi darling! How are you? Come over for tea. Tim is here and longing to meet you."
"Really?"
"Yes darling, and... he's a trustafarian."

"A trustafarian?"
It conjured up an image of an elderly chap with dreadlocks and a hernia.

Far from it, a trustafarian is apparently, someone who lives off their family trust. That means minted to you and me.
I slavered on my lippy and tootled up the drive.

Tim is young, presentable and charming, with a specialist knowledge of air kissing:
"Mmwah! Mmmwah!"

Stripy shirt, v neck pullover, jeans and brogues, you get the picture. He is, of course, a DJ - when not rushing round being a socialite.
A nice chap indeed, but Tim lives up to his namesake

No tingle factor there then!