Consider Neville. He was a big lad, in all ways. He stood over six foot tall, and weighed over 200 pounds, and it was honest labourer's weight, not fat. He wasn't ugly, nor startlingly handsome. Neville was just a big honest lad of nearly twenty one.
Now Neville had a problem. Two of them actually, but only one that he thinks he can do something about. His first problem, one that he knew he was stuck with, was that he wasn't the brightest spark around. He knew it and he didn't really mind, even if it did mean that he was made the butt of jokes at times. He had a good sense of humour and didn't mind laughing at himself.
His second problem was that he was a virgin, and this was something that he really wanted to fix, preferably before his twenty-first birthday, which was fast approaching.
In his slow but methodical way Neville had decided that if he didn't know how to catch a girl then maybe he should ask someone smarter than him.
That night at the pub Neville turned to the guys he tended to drink with and told them his problem.
"I know you guys can get girls," he finished. "You're always talking about how lucky you get, so I thought you could tell me what to do."
He rode out the ensuing hilarity placidly, waiting for some constructive advice.
There was much discussion on the subject, with advice ranging from hilarious to obscene, but with no-one actually able to come up with a good plan of attack for Neville.
Among the crowd was Tommy. Good old Tommy, the practical joker. Unfortunately, a practical joker with a cruel edge, with some of his jokes hurting. Tommy considered this situation ripe for some fun.
"Listen up," he called. "We can't decide something this important right now. Why don't we sleep on it and we can advise Neville tomorrow, after we've had time to plan things."
This seemed fine to Neville. He was quite happy to leave all the planning to brighter brains than his, and he went home content.
The next day at work, Tommy wandered over to Neville. "Listen, Neville," he said. "About that little problem of yours. We've got a solution, but you'll have to meet us at the main bar in the Regal, so dress properly."
Neville thought about this. "Isn't the Regal the pub where the posh people go?" he asked.
"It is indeed," agreed Tommy, "and it is also the solution to your little problem."
That evening, Neville fronted up to the Regal, to be hastily drawn inside by Tommy and a group of smiling friends. Neville grinned back, pleased that they were so happy to help him.
Settling down with a beer, Neville listened intently to what Tommy had to say.
"Now, Neville," started Tommy. "We've talked it over and we figure that one of your problems with girls is that all the girls at the Red Lion know you, and just discount you as a possible lover, so we've changed places to a bar where you aren't known.
We've chosen the Regal because a lot of posh girls come here. They're all used to posh guys and they're probably tired of them by now, so they're a lot more likely to be interested in someone like you.
Now, if you glance over in the far corner, you will see a bunch of girls sitting around the table drinking wine. They're the girls you'll be talking to later. The one in the blue dress is Meredith. She's the one you should try your little speech on. She's a sucker for a working man."
Neville looked at the indicated corner, and felt faint as he observed the girls there. Way out of his league he'd have thought, but Tommy seemed quite confident. He focused on the woman in blue, Meredith.
