As you may remember, pungent shedders, I was dating Heathcliffe from Wuthering Heights for a long time. Sadly, last year saw the demise of our relationship due to ‘autistic differences’. We were going in different directions. Heathcliffe wanted to wring his hands, gnash his teeth and wanted to "silence jabbering tongues with cold steel" and I wanted to ‘roll out barrels’, watch a Spanish chef and a Portuguese waiter get it on over a hot cupboard and ride trilobites to Gawky park to see the Scorpions fart the "wind of change". So we went our separate ways. Since then I’ve been thrust into the world of dating. Yes. Extensive investigations (reviewing my archives from 2006) have revealed that my perfect date would constitute the following:
A reading from Angel to the Corinthians
"Maybe you can take me on a date to my favourite place in the world. The local park. There we can spend stolen moments drinking ‘White lightning’ and seeing who wets themselves first. Then we can play ‘used condom hopscotch’ as we find somewhere to sit and compare the size of our feet. Yours will be freakishly small and I won’t be able to steal my gaze away. You will find this disconcerting and tell me that I have a turn in my eye (boss eyes) which is both unattractive and off putting: You think I’m looking at a shoe tree over your shoulder. You will have brought me gifts to entice mine eye. A tie rack inscribed with the words ‘Bowie hates ideas’ or maybe a Toby jug filled with your own piss. Perhaps even a ice bucket with a horses head as the handle on the lid. All these will make my eye dance like plastic cracker prizes.
What say you? Bear in mind that only a fool would pass up this chance."
A lesson for all of us, I think we’ll all agree. This is how to treat a lady right. You will probably achieve Level 42 with such a young lady, and receive some ‘Lessons in Love’. Yes, I know I always say that.
Couple this with my post about ‘The Game’
And you’ll be a modern day Cassanova, probably to the scale of a Welsh heart throb called Gerwyn who likes to fall asleep playing ‘streets of rage’, or maybe to the scale of a metal worker from Barrow who likes to leave the toilet door open while you’re having a romantic meal.
May your dating be fruitful.
Your pal in all affairs of the heart