The weather is sunny. Already the warming toddies of winter are being swept aside by the fruity tang of the daiquiri. It is growing apparent from your vicar's shortening sermons that it is becoming uncomfortably warm weather in which to wear a cassock. And with the blueness of the sky comes two shifts in the character of the sensible Christian; a decided increase in indolence and a more profoundly marked desire to find oneself a partner with whom to while away the happy hours of June. But how, I hear you ask, am I to choose the right chap or chappess for my own elevated tastes? How am I to keep them happy and adoring throughout the days and weeks ahead? Well, fear not. For I am a child of Aphrodite and well suited to solving your romantic troubles. For the Christian seeking advice in the Ars Amoris, help is finally at hand!

1. First contact

Let us be quite brutally honest. If you back the wrong horse at the start of the race, as any bookmaker will tell you, your chances of gaining a favourable return are slim. There is, however, a very simple means of sifting the wheat from the chaff in this respect. You must arrive at church on a Sunday clad in your best. Lamentably, standards in Sunday dress have dropped to deplorable levels in recent years. In this instance this will serve you well, as the majority of churchgoers will be unused to the sight of the Panama hat, the loosely tied cravat, the bonnet or the crinoline. As you wander through the coffee lounge afterwards, dispensing witty bons mots, be careful to throw in a small, perfectly phrased compliment into your dealings with any eligible member of the opposite sex. This, accompanied by a suggestive wink, will have one of two results. Either you will receive a slap to the face (or, if your prospective amour is male, a contemptuous sneer) or you will hear the silvery tones of a delighted giggle (sardonic smile). Anyone who has rejected you on this basis is unworthy of your attentions. Upon eliciting a positive outcome, proceed to stage two.

2. Religious fervour

Your intended has taken the bait. It is now important that they should feel secure in your presence; neither men nor women are fond of a sexual predator. Therefore, for the next few weeks, as you meet this person on a Sunday, affect an air of profound religious ecstasy. Ensure that whenever this person sees you, you are reading at the very least a gospel, or for preference the Apocrypha of a King James Bible. Eschew, in their company at least, all alcohol and lewdness. Be friendly, but always have one very obvious eye on your soul. This will render you utterly fascinating to your intended, leaving them completely open to...

3. The Kill (metaphorically)

Invite them to a Sunday evening service. They will accept, as the attraction of your spirituality will render them helpless. Afterwards, over a cup of coffee, mention how you have been struggling with your faith recently. They will be ever so sympathetic. At this point you take them aside into a private enclave (you may have to improvise this) and confess that although it had been your intention to either a) take vows and become a member of the Order of Silent Flagellant Monks of St Sadius, or b) become a voluntary worker on the leper colony of Lazaria. Then admit that you have come to understand what St Paul meant about it being better to be single, but marriage being useful and necessary. At this point meet their eyes, and use this line. I should point out that even the smallest deviation from my scientifically proven technique here could prove fatal:

"Erm... I... that is... well... over the past few weeks, I've felt this... erm... connection... between us. You're the only person I've ever felt like this with and... erm... well... oh, (moment of silent prayer) will you... could you... accompany me to a screening of The Passion of the Christ? Just the... er... two of us?"

This has never failed. After all your meticulous planning, this will allow you to achieve the summer partner of your dreams. After all this, of course, comes...

4. The Relationship itself...

Might cover this in a later article. But don't do anything I wouldn't do. Adieu, lovelorn readers.

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Special Announcement

Immediately before this issue of Christis went to press, it was brought to our attention that our respected columnist Dorian du Richard was in fact an imposter. His appearance at successive meetings with Martini glass in hand lent him credibility, and his arch manner of peering through his monocle enabled him to disconcert any potential questioners. Nevertheless, we now realise M du Richard, bon vivant, professional duellist and expert in Classical languages and seduction, is none other than Mr Christopher Charlton, third year English student, and expert on absolutely nothing. We apologise to all our readers for allowing ourselves to be duped in this way, and assure them that it will not happen again. Mr Charlton would like to personally crave your indulgence, however, and trusts that his regular missives will be accepted by the readership under his nom de plume, to which he has become rather attached. We are also delighted to confirm that the real M du Richard has decided not to press charges.