Our hero Clive Carter has fallen head-over-heals for his dishy neighbour Catherine.

No sooner had they begun to share a cup of Clive's favourite coffee, Cheapsavers Gold, than they were rudely interrupted by Catherine's sophisticated French friend Jean-Claude Everard who whisked her away in his giant Renault.

• IF YOU MISSED EPISODE ONE THEN CLICK HERE!

  Go to the beginning and find out the background to this groundbreaking spoof, romantic serial! See the original Nescafe Gold Blend TV commercials starring Anthony Head of BUFFY fame.
  

It was Saturday morning. The lounge had been vacuumed and I was just finishing cleaning the kitchen cupboards when there was a knock at the door. When I opened it I was surprised to see my beautiful neighbour Catherine. I had thought of nothing else for the last two weeks, since I encountered her in the corridor and she had invited me into her flat for a cup of CheapSavers Gold. She was as magnificent as ever, despite the scruffy tracksuit and the moth-eaten trainers.

"What can I do for you?" I asked, trying to be cool and hiding my excitement.

"Well you can put your duster down and help me with this." She held up a muddy Ipod.

"Come in. Would you like a coffee?"

"Sure. That would be great. I dropped it when I was jogging. I think the damn thing's bust."

"It's Your Favourite Coffee .."

I put on the kettle and reached for my trusty jar of CheapSavers Gold. I examined the Ipod carefully and then tried it with my headphones.

"It sounds fine. Its the phones that are bust. Borrow mine and I'll get you another pair."

"Great. Thanks." She turned around, a puzzled expression appearing on her lovely face.

"Gosh, your flat is unreal. Does your mother live with you or do you have a live-in girl friend with some kind of weird tidiness obsession?"

"If you mean I keep the place tidy, then I thank you for the compliment. Actually, I live alone," I answered coldly.

By the time I returned with the coffee tray, she was looking very at home. Unfortunately for my new sofa, she hadn't removed her vile footwear and was now stretched across it with her muddy trainers on my cushions.

I handed her a mug of Gold and put the tray down. "It's your favourite coffee," I said encouragingly.

She took a sip and then her lovely face twisted into a scowl. "Its repulsive," she said rudely, having taken a sip. "It's that CheapSavers crap isn't it? No wonder its so cheap."

I was deeply hurt and quickly turned the conversation to other matters. "How is your French friend, Jean-Claude?"

"Oh him? He's a pain up the derriere. A pompous twat."

I brightened at this unexpected news. I stared at Catherine. Her angelic face was silhouetted against the early morning sun rising over the M4 flyover. Her hair was tied back tightly into a ponytail. There was a sort of golden halo about her. Her bone structure was exquisite.

I was shaken from my reverie by a sudden violent banging at the door. I opened it to find Jean-Claude standing there clutching an impressive box of expensive-looking chocolate truffles. Not from CheapSavers I noted disapprovingly.

"Excuse me," he said roughly, "do you know where Catherine is?"

"Actually, she's with me. We're just sharing a cup of coffee together," I said coolly. He marched into the lounge without being invited.

"Catherine. Why do you slouch like that? You are a beautiful woman. Get dressed and put some make-up on or we will be late!"

"Late for what?" She asked casually.

"Wimbledon. You know I have the prime seats for us on court No.1."

"Please don't talk to me as if I'm one of your French tarts, JC."

"Catherine. Do not play bluff with me. I do not make games with you."

I was embarrassed so I went to the kitchen and returned with a cup of Gold for her annoyed 'ami'. Jean-Claude took the mug from me without comment and took a big mouthful.

"Urg! This is vile. This is typical English coffee. It is a disgrace!" He stormed.

"That's it!" said Catherine. "This time you’ve gone too far. You’ve insulted my friend's hospitality. Leave now. I never want to see you again!"

Jean Claude spun on his heals and left, slamming the door.

"Good," she said, "he left the choccies behind." She reached for the truffles and ripped open the box. I smiled. CheapSavers Gold had done the trick. I knew that while we shared this unique coffee our lives would be intertwined. I took a truffle.

"Pity he didn't leave the tennis tickets behind," said Catherine thoughtfully. "Anyway, what are your plans for today, Clive?"

"I need to do my supermarket shopping," I said, without thinking.

"Who wants a day at the Wimbledon Quarter Finals with a dishy frog and strawberries, cream and champagne? Personally, I'd rather spend the day with my new friend Clive exploring the sceptred aisles of CheapSavers. Is it a date then? You, me and CheapSavers? Or would you prefer somewhere more expensive?” She said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

"Yes," I said, my heart skipping a beat. "CheapSavers will be fine. I'm ready now if you like?"

"I’ll need to shower and change. Give me 15 minutes. Don’t forget to take your pinny off before we go out."

I looked down in dismay. What must Jean-Claude have thought of me wearing an apron? But no embarrassment could dampen my enthusiasm. Catherine and I were about to embark on our first date.

Later, as I watched the forceful way Catherine drove her trolley down the coffee and tea aisle, pushing aside ordinary mortals, I knew this was true love. I watched, spellbound, as she reached up gracefully for a new jar of coffee. The huge eyes, her full red lips, the thoughtful expression etched onto her beautiful face.

Then something truely dreadful happened. The jar in her elegant hand wasn't CheapSavers own brand and it wasn't even 'Gold'. It was a brand with a German name. Finally she settled for some strange stuff called ILLY Expresso Decaffinated.

"Catherine, why are you looking at these strange foreign brands?"

"Where do you think coffee comes from? They don't grow it in Essex you know," and to make her point she threw the tin in her trolley.

"Anyway its Italian so that will piss off JC."

I picked up the tin. "Are you aware its decaffinated?"

"Of course I know its decaff. Mind your own bloody business!" She said, snatching the tin, throwing it back in her trolley and heading for the checkout.

An awful foreboding overcame me as I watched the sun across the car park suddenly vanish behind an ominous black cloud. Now, despite the constant jostling from hoards of pensioners and the sight of Catherine's delectable, receding rear, CheapSavers suddenly seemed the loneliest place on earth.