Rather than moan about the government (Which seems to be a trend on news 24); I thought I would cheer everyone up with some rather funny stories that I came across while shopping online for a Valentine’s Day present. I have edited them slightly (as to not cause offense), so I hope everyone can have a laugh on this pleasant Thursday morning…
The first one comes from Ann Summers, an online store in the UK.
I bought this product because my husband, whom I dearly loved, is (sadly) not a particularly well-endowed fellow. I was seeking greater satisfaction in the bedroom, so, one week while my husband was away on business, I had a tipsy moment of uncharacteristic adventurousness, and I ordered this product. When the ‘product’ arrived I was startled at the size. I eventually got it in - and boy was it worth it. I don't work, and as a housewife, I spent most of the following week playing with my new toy.
Everything changed when my husband came home. He saw that the house was not as clean as usual (I usually spend most of my time making it spotless, but that week I was ‘distracted’) and immediately knew that something wasn't quite right. He asked as to why I hadn't shampooed the carpet - I told him that I had been ill, but I was feeling better and that I would clean it tomorrow and that seemed to satisfy him. I cooked his dinner, we had a lovely meal, and things were great.
Until it came to bedtime. Usually, my husband is too tired to make love in the evenings, but he was rather frisky. Delighted, I received him eagerly, but it didn’t take him long to gather that things weren’t quite right. The poor man could hardly touch the sides. Immediately he began shouting at me, accusing me of seeing someone else while he was away. 'Am I not enough for you?!' he sobbed. I tried desperately to explain about the toy but he shook his head, 'I bet he bought you that, didn't he? Your lover. God, how could I have been so stupid as to trust you?!' He simply wouldn't listen to reason, and in the end, I had to leave. I packed a bag and left for my mother's in Norfolk.
I now live with my mother's loft conversion in her bungalow, with nothing for company but my toy. I married straight out of school, and I have no formal qualifications other than my GCSEs, so finding work has proved impossible. My children, now grown up, won't talk to me because of what they think I did to their father.
But despite all that I would still highly recommend the product. Use with caution.
Here is another one from Amazon, the world’s largest online retailer.
After having been told my danglies looked like an elderly Rastafarian I decided to take the plunge and buy some of this as previous shaving attempts had only been mildly successful and I nearly put my back out trying to reach the more difficult bits. Being a bit of a romantic I thought I would do the deed on the missus's birthday as a bit if a treat.
I ordered it well in advance and working in the North Sea I considered myself a bit above some of the characters writing the previous reviews and wrote them off as soft office types...Oh my fellow sufferers how wrong I was. I waited until the other half was tucked up in bed and after giving some vague hints about a special surprise I went down to the bathroom. Initially all went well and I applied the gel and stood waiting for something to happen. I didn’t have long to wait.
At first there was gentle warmth, which in a matter of seconds was replaced by an intense burning and a feeling I can only describe as like being given a barbed wire wedgie by two people intent on hitting the ceiling with my head. Religion hadn't featured much in my life until that night but I suddenly became willing to convert to any religion to stop the violent burning around the turd tunnel and what seemed like the destruction of the meat and two veg. Struggling not to bite through my bottom lip I tried to wash the gel off in the sink and only succeeded in blocking the plughole with a mat of hair. Through the haze of tears I struggled out of the bathroom across the hall into the kitchen, by this time walking was not really possible and I crawled the final yard to the fridge in the hope of some form of cold relief. I yanked the freezer drawer out and found a tub of ice cream, toe the lid off and positioned it under me. The relief was fantastic but only temporary as it melted fairly quickly and the fiery stabbing returned. Due to the shape of the ice cream tub I hadn’t managed to give the starfish any treatment and I groped around in the draw for something else as I was sure my vision was going to fail fairly soon. I grabbed a bag of what I later found out was frozen sprouts and tore it open trying to be quiet as I did so. I took a handful of them and an tried in vain to clench some between the cheeks of my arse. This was not doing the trick as some of the gel had found its way up the chutney channel and it felt like the space shuttle was running its engines behind me.
This was probably and hopefully the only time in my life I was going to wish there was a gay snowman in the kitchen which should give you some idea of the depths I was willing to sink to in order to ease the pain. The only solution my pain crazed mind could come up with was to gently ease one of the sprouts where no veg had gone before.
Unfortunately, alerted by the strange grunts coming from the kitchen the other half chose that moment to come and investigate and was greeted by the sight of me, arse in the air, strawberry ice cream dripping from my bell end pushing a sprout up my arse while muttering “ooooohhh that feels good” Understandably this was a shock to her and she let out a scream and as I hadn’t heard her come in it caused an involuntary spasm of shock in myself which resulted in the sprout being ejected at quite some speed in her direction. I can understand that having a sprout fired against your leg at 11 at night in the kitchen probably wasn’t the special surprise she was expecting and having to explain to the kids the next day what the strange hollow in the ice cream was didn’t improve my status…so to sum it up, VEET removes hair, dignity and self-respect.
Lastly, we have one from Sex Toy, probably one the most well-known online sex shop in SA.
Dear Sir / Madam
I write to you about the product above. I want to know how this thing works. I have had many troubles in my life because of a small penis. When I was in boarding school, I use to be teased a lot when I swim or went in the showers. They used to always say I drew the short stick. When I finished the army, I married my wife, who I saved myself for. On the night of my wedding, my wife and I were to be intimate for the first time. I was sure she would have nothing to compare me to, and I would be fine. Jurra was I wrong. I am sure half of Cape Town heard her laughing. When I finally calmed her down, the tears then turned to sad ones. (because she thought she was stuck with me for the rest of her life) The entire honeymoon was ruined and we had to wait almost 3 months until the marriage was true in the eyes of God. After 2 years, we finally quit and moved our separate ways. I met a girl online and I will be meeting her in April. I have also tried taking pills and went to a Sangoma that I got a flyer from. Nothing has worked, and I don’t know how I will get this girl to take me serious. Hopefully this product will do it? Could you please let me know how long it will take to make me triple in size like in movies?
And there we have it folks, things I find when I should be working! Hopefully no one takes it too seriously, and enjoy a laugh at the expense of someone other than Julius. So before we start work again, here is the real last one (I promise!), a book review on ‘A Shore Thing’ by Snooki, on Amazon…
R. Casimiro says, "Grate Book": "I use to be Harvard inglish profeser. I reed bok and now forgot how spel and use inglish. Plot was nyce, had good story and hot chiks."
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