We've just come back from the pub, where as usual, the first Wednesday of every month is singles night.
Tony has always been a big singles night fan, reckoning that one of these days he's going to find a perfect woman, and that the one thing that has evaded him for so long - true love - will eventually come knocking at his door.
Of course, although he's a foul-mouthed, shaven-headed, hideously fat, good for nothing loser, Tony reckons that somewhere out there, in the concrete jungle that is south-east London, there is waiting for him a woman who was put on this planet to bring pleasure to his life, and always remain loyal to him.
Personally, I've yet to meet such a woman, and after seeing the usual load of dross on offer tonight, I reckon that Tony's got to broaden his horizons, if he really wants to find true love.
The boy says that I'm too fussy, and whilst I may see the women of south-east London as dogs of the two legged variety, he sees them as rough diamonds, whose hidden qualities are enough to bring a smile to the average man's face.
Of course, he may be right, but if fat Brenda, 47, from just down the road is anything to go by, having rough sex with her is not on my list of priorities.
But love can do strange things to men, and whilst I'm now going to watch the television, and enjoy a cold can of lager, I see that Tony has closed his bedroom door, and is no doubt about to do things with Brenda that only men as desperate as him would ever do, with a woman as ugly as her.