You probably can't make out the text in the image here, but I can transcribe it for you:
To the tall, dark stranger who let the blonde girl on crutches hop on the Tube before you on the Victoria line from King's Cross, Sunday 30th. I thought you were lovely and wish I'd spoken to you. ANON
I almost always read thelondonpaper. Its rival, the London Lite, is actually run by Murdoch, and therefore holds no journalistic merit whatsoever. On the way home from work, I'll sometimes find my iPod out of battery and automatically reach for the first copy you find on an Underground train somewhere. And in the centre, just after the "look-what-club-Lily-Allen-fell-out-of" section, thelondonlove section is home to articles about love that I could probably do a better job of writing, some stuff about whomever married whom recently, and the column on the right, in which you text in to tell everyone that you vaguely saw someone in London who you like the look of (even if they may be a git).
This section, Lovestruck, I always read. Just like everyone else in London. I don't think I'll ever be spotted, and in any case I'm attached, but it's always fun to read. And then, yesterday, the above popped up, second to last, in a two-column edition of Lovestruck.
"Hang on," I thought, "that's me, isn't it?"
Sunday 30th? Check.
Victoria Line? Check.
Blonde girl with crutches? Check.
Lovely? Well, you decide.
Of course, it could be another tall, dark stranger who let a blonde girl with crutches onto the Victoria Line on that particular day. I don't know how often that happens. It probably isn't me, but it matches me perfectly, and that's odd, and a little gratifying.
I'm attached, so I don't think I'll reply (you can't reply anyway, it's not a dating service, just a text column). But isn't that just a little bit odd?!