ROMANCE? WHAT IS WRONG WITH A GOOD OLD DATE?

DATING in the new millennium seems to be an uphill struggle. Single people today are overworked, over-stressed and apparently over-anxious about getting a partner.

Years ago, mating rituals between young single folk were always organised by their local community.

School discos, dance halls and matchmaking Irishmen got young people together. The girls chatted over lemonade, eyed up the talent and ran away flushed and excited about their new boyfriend.

All very innocent and yet charged with enough sexual tension to keep the girls gabbing in the toilets till the school bell rang.

When I was a teenager, we girls would read magazines like Jackie to get our information about kissing and dating. Boys were seen as an alien species and the problem pages were full of girls trying to grasp the vague details of sexual advances and kissing rules.

Today's teenagers have unlimited access to soft porn through the music videos on TV, where it seems there is a relentless stream of young women who will run through the rain in their knickers until a bunch of boys takes them to their "crib". This is where the scantily clad girls dance sexily and the boys and their mates sit round drinking brandy and then one strokes some girl's bum and calls her "his bitch".

Where in the real world of teenagers does that actually happen?

When I was young and single, me and my mates used to hang out with teenage boys and watch them play football for ages.

After they had finally exhausted their basic need to kick a ball for five hours in the freezing cold, we would all sit around outside someone's house and awkwardly pick the leaves off a bush till it was almost bare. We would coyly giggle and chat till the boys showed interest.

The boys would fight and kick each other - proving to the girls their hunting and fighting skills. And the girls would sit and plait each other's hair - showing off their hairdressing abilities.At some point before it was time to head home, one brave boy would finally grab a girl's plait and kiss her.

That was considered love in the streets of Shettleston where I grew up.

Back in Victorian times, young girls were taught how to flick a fan in a certain way to indicate to a young dandy near the fireplace that they were most certainly interested. He puffed his pipe, she flashed a petticoat and before you could say "God Bless the Queen", a wedding was organised. If it all went horribly wrong, the woman just had to quietly bear the brunt and surreptitiously hire a good-looking gardener with a swarthy demeanour.

It isn't just teens in today's society who are having trouble finding a love match; young women and men are struggling to meet their soul mate in today's hectic world.

Nowadays, those without a partner log on to the web and upload their details and scan the latest profiles for suitable marriage material. It is immensely popular and loveless people from all over the world do seem to find love on the web.

Mating in the new millennium is like a scene from Star Trek. Mobile phones are the latest dating tools, with "toothing" being the latest fad. (Nothing to do with the latest home dentistry debacle that's been all over the news.)

All you need is a mobile phone that is equipped with Bluetooth technology and you are raring to go.

In crowded bars or nightclubs or even on a train, you just enable the Bluetooth service on your mobile phone to roam the network and other people in your location and who are logged on will appear on your phone.

You send a message or a cute picture of yourself and you simply wait for a reply and possibly a date.

"Are you dancing? Are you asking?" all made possible by your opposable thumbs and a hand-held device.

How far have we come in society that single people now sit in bars and stare at their phone to see if anyone near them is sharing a penchant for anonymous hook-ups?

I believe the old-fashioned ways are the best. Going to a party or a bar and making conversation with some man and swapping life stories.

Human contact has to be the best way of judging a person's ability to be compatible with your needs. A funky cartoon face and some anonymous sexual texting on a mobile phone aren't.

GLAD TO MISS OUT ON HAPPY FAMILY

I WAS in Aberdeen last Friday performing my one-woman comedy show. As I checked into the hotel at midday, I was welcomed by a huge group of about 15 people of all ages, sexes and sizes who were having a big family barney in the reception area.

"Leave it Kevin!" one big, fat woman screamed as her bald husband lunged at a spikey-haired man in an England rugby top who ran through the foyer splashing a pint of lager as he went.

Their loud, ear-scraping Cockney accents and fist-flying antics made me happy that I don't have to work in a bar or have to deal with the public on that level.

It seems the hotel was playing host to this family's wedding on the following day.

That's one wedding that I want to attend: they made my mental family look like the Von Trapps on tour.

BUTT ME NO BUTTS: WHERE IS MY CIGARETTE ASH SUPPOSED TO GO?

I AM fully aware that smoking outdoors is now a part of my life. And I fully accept I have to be responsible about where I dispose of my fag butts. But I am heartily sick of outdoor cafés that refuse to provide ashtrays for their pavement tables.

I am happy to sit outside in the freezing cold for a ciggie and a coffee, but I don't want to carry my own personal ashtray around with me.

In Edinburgh, during the festival season, I was in seven different bars with outdoor seating and only one provided an ashtray. The others pointed to a cigarette disposal unit screwed to a wall yards away.

This means I had to jump up and down to flick the ash and finally stub out the cigarette.

There were environmental officers stalking about waiting to fine the forgetful fag-flickers. Seems unfair to me.