Is known to ask, is this it, while his room is on fire. Prefers skiing La Chavanette fueled by Alipús Luis Del Rio and DeLeón Leona Añejo Tequila. Loves a taco; hates Botticelli and Bellini, any type of sand and all food cooked in France.
A bibliophagist, irrationally bonkers about Signor Sorolla, marmite and Bach on the beach, but gets pretty steamed up about the rain. Hates mess, numerals, churls and suffers seriously from Sunday syndrome. Intriguing.
Married to a cavalier King Charles Spaniel, engaged to Ms Chanel and Signor Ferragamo and dating a variety of Middle Eastern food. Apparently utterly devoid of any culture whatsoever.
Impatiently gorges on Teuscher, Richart and Flying Noir; often has to chop off her hands and sadly loves islands. Not a fan of Cow Killers and would prefers igloos.
Has a penchance for excessively strong French cheese and dogs with firsts in modern languages. Less passionate about weak coffee, indecisive dawdlers and spending any time at all in Morden.
Enthusiastic about Andalucian jondos, intermedios and chicos, particularly whilst munching Polish bagels and reading Japanese graphic novels. Loathes babies fashioned from jelly and spatially illiterate dawdlers.
Would frankly prefer to be in Provence or spoiling a walk. Has always been slightly Afraid of Virginia Woolf and is particularly attracted to regressive jazz and lumbar support. Likes beef.
Mildly epicurean with a penchant for kinmedai; never apologises for being a Spud and is smitten with rock climbing in Shangri-la. Not a fan of Sunday evenings, whims or impatient pancake turners.
An unhealthy obsession with giraffes and gargalesis; partial to black Iberian pig, whilst carrying a primal loathing of Brough Superiors and Vincent Black Shadows. A highly regarded glutton, dislikes people who do not share.
Hopelessly devoted to the visionary artist Austin Osman Spare whilst collecting Japanese woodblock prints and ex-libris plates. Devoted to tchotchkes, which he wraps lovingly in swathes of cod-liver oil imbued calico.
Infatuated by bucatini, penne and rigatoni, and by tripping the light fantastic whilst immersed in a woman in white with a heart of darkness. A full blooded pluviophobe, she particularly dislikes fussy diners and grumpy strangers.
Absolutely loves jacks and jennies and the odd Grand Noir du Berry, partial to waiters on motorbikes and a self-confessed cynophilist. Resents stairs and has a profound dislike for mambas, boomslangs and kraits of any kind.
Utterly besotted by strong colours and ridiculously interesting gadgets; also very fond of intelligent dogs that ride penny farthings. Loathes crowds munching marmite, Ivete Sangalo and centre forwards.
Will eulogise about his passion for dolmades and souvlaki; believes blue is truly the colour; and loves Pakalolo and Molly’s Reach in British Columbia. Hates loitering drainpipes, ignorant skittles and burgers bars aspiring to be Asador Etxebarri.
Potty about stroking butterflies and paddling with poodles; scrabbles with joy and loves a monopoly; will crawl aggressively over broken glass for fugu and okonomiyaki. Finds wallop repugnant, particularly dislikes dog days and cacophonous sternutation.
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Partial to côte de boeuf and Swedish massage therapy; would like to star in The Borrowers and suffers from aquaphobia and cynophobia. Would have preferred to be a rich bitch in Monaco.
Besotted by soutzoukakia, pastourma, the riviera and green tea; partial to Vespers and the Clover Club and definitely neither a turophile or javaphile. Has a problem with any man in leggings on the 2.30 to Sheerness.
Adores days of Masal Bhangra, Pole and Zaouli in psychedelic shirts whilst whistling loudly. Not a fan of flies, tearing after trains or over enthusiastic football fans.
Addicted to fine coffee, liquorice and excellent red wine. Sadly invented font charades, adores maps and swims deeply with plankton. Likes the word mellifluous and photographs manhole covers. Mmmm.
Munches raspberry doughnuts with Her Majesty in Kalokairi; mildly obsessive about all things Windsor and wistful about Agnetha, Bjorn, Benny and Anni-Frid. Offended by any carrot cooked to a pulp.
Potty about The Shed and Gus Mears; adores strolling, rambling, hiking and looks forward to conquering Patagonia. Regurgitates at the thought of shiitake, regularly funds the Pied Piper of Hamelin and brutally amputates feet with crocs.
Absolutely loves a World of Pain and Vortigern’s Machine, and dreams happy about any old New Nordic cottage and Mr Bingo’s angst. Addicted to learning and the printed page but suffers from an unnatural antipathy to the Blue Screen of Death.
Embarrassingly passionate about flea markets, jellyfish and ballet; reads Patti Smith and listens to Vanoni whilst eating Brie de Meaux and sticky toffee pudding. Loathes cockroaches and flying. Canadian…
Adores globetrotting, Mr Theroux and Sir David, loves a flathead or camshafts in absolutely anything and is not precious about his music. Becomes inconsolable if confronted with the Mexican tapdance or coffee.
Shares the black passion of the Duke of Buccleuch and Earl of Malmesbury; adores HIIT, Zumba and the odd boot camp and is particularly cuckoo about Friends. Loathes anything from a chicken with chilli.
Known to be partial to black letters and infidels; has an unconsummated weakness for fabulous clothes, a disappointing love of lilywhites and adores running to the sounds of lonely planet. Hates soggy cornflakes.
Would happily expire to the Garden State film soundtrack, whilst reading for the twenty-seventh time the Chronicles of Narnia. Equally odd about any British films and David Attenborough. Likes fashion.
Obsessive, compulsive collector and bibliomaniac. With equal fondness for photography, Inuit sculpture, masks and tupilaks. Remains horrified that he turned down a sitting with Horst.
A cacographer, je t’aime Ms Birkin, Stroking The Doors and Manchurian mushrooms; cherishes Choupette and Mr Bigglesworth, whilst indulging a profound horror of doggy paddle, the small screen and contact lenses. Bizarre.
Has a indelicate love of Charleston’s Shepard Fairey, the blues and a variety of trainers. Allegedly cooks excellent Maris Pipers. Emotionally allergic to tea of every description including hand-rolled from the Himalayas.
A profound and positive relationship with red wine, the Lake District and baking bread, alongside the unfettered joy of old ladies roaring with laughter. An equally profound but negative relationship with lifts and salad spinners.
Unhealthy attachment to sport and dogs. A lover of food and will travel to keep his tongue smiling. Dismal but enthusiastic musician who adores blues. Wears anorak when discussing technology.
Ecstatic over any activity involving medicated paper for the water closet, ice cubes as canapés, and the pursuit of the perfect Fouetté. A black dog descends with the arrival of Mr Spangler’s vacuum or trips to the Land of Nod.
Mildly obsessed by prison documentaries and perfect incarceration in Teuschers and Godivas. Loves boondock rambling in pubs but carries a profound grievance about dawdles and rice pudding.
Passionate about puzzles and slightly bewitched by the time of ten twenty-two; also likes learning languages and foreign adventures He is not enamoured by planes that get lost, sunrise or English drizzle. Slightly odd.
Totally bonkers about Mesopotamia and the Indus Valley, the odd Inca and Jason Bourne; adores a hot cauliflower whilst debating with Kant and Kierkegaard. Supports prohibition of crowds and concerts. Intelligent.
Adores extreme weather, Oscar Neimayer, rollercoasters and eggs benedict. Would generally prefer to be Enid Blyton shopping in New York in a thunderstorm. Does not like milk but does like Richard Netura.