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One hundred and thirty. That, give or take a menage a trois, is Ian Kelly's estimate of the number of notches on the bedpost of Giacomo Casanova, the man long renowned as the world's greatest lover, whose name now lends itself with fitting promiscuity to both a stylish honeymoon hotel and a clinically diagnosed fondness for philandering. It's an impressive figure, especially for a man who began his career as a libertine by studying for the priesthood. He ended it, having found his true vocation, by writing the world's first great kiss-and-tell memoir, the 12-volume Histoire de ma vie