A few months ago I was out with my Ladeez when the subject of Chloe's mother came up. 'Your mum's the business, Chloe.' I said. 'Do you think she can be my mum, too?'

'I don't see why not,' she replied charitably.

'Now I just need to find a dad.'

'Rachael,' Lala wisely interjected. 'We're all looking for a dad.'

And she's right. We, which is to say my immediate circle of ladyfriends and I, are all looking for a father in one way or another, and lately I've been thinking that surely there's a more efficient way to go about this. Can't I just contact suitable candidates with a position description and ask if they'd like a new job as my dad? Duties will include fixing things, such as unmakeable Ikea flat pack furniture, my computer, and that DVD player which never works, owning a house in a pleasant and remote location for the purpose of weekend visits, intimidation of potential romantic partners, and restoration of a water damaged sense of self worth. Here are some men who will be receiving a letter from me soon:


Actor and all round rad guy Stephen Fry, seen here holding the iPhone he will undoubtedly give me for Christmas.


Author Milan Kundera, about to say something profound, dirty or both.


Mega huge cultural studies scholar and author of Ain't No Black in the Union Jack, The Black Atlantic, and After Empire, Paul Gilroy.


Artistic everythingman David Byrne, although I should say that I find him deeply attractive, and that might be a touch confusing if he is to be my father.


Neurogastroenterologist and author of the disgusting yet oddly compelling The Second Brain, Dr Michael Gershon.


Pleasantly voiced presenter of WNYC's Radio Lab Robert Krulwich.

I'll let you know how I go with filling the position.