Stupid Girlfriends

This is my ex girlfriend’s TV and TV Stand. I am selling them, as she no longer lives in my house. She accidentally fell into bed with Steve the other week. Steve is not me.

The TV was used previous in her private “TV room”; one especially allocated so she could curl up and watch “Americas Got Essex Come Talent” privately.

Now, she doesn’t have any rooms allocated to her. This is because she now lives with Steve. Steve lives in a one-bedroom rental that smells of horse and bottom.

The TV, stand and remote come sold together as a neat package, very much like my girlfriend, her deception, halitosis and unsightly thumb wart.

The remote is an ingenious device that allows the television picture to come on but also off. You can choose either. This provided much pleasure for my gibbon of girlfriend who would marvel for hours switching it on and off claiming it was magic.

Woefully the TV does not have HDMI, which is, agreeably, a compromise by today’s standards I know; much like, oh, let’s say, living in a one-room-pigsty-slum-hovel-hog-parlour with a disastrous looking man.

The stand’s legs are aesthetically finished in chrome and thankfully do not make small children point, run away or vomit.

This 32-inch JVC classic is presented in grey, which is Steve’s favourite colour but it is also a colour reflecting the true joy I wish them both as they start their life together in their cosy mutant burrow.

There is an array of channels that the television can pick up such as One, Two, Three, Four and also additionally Five. Five is also the number of male friends my ex can pick up on Facebook; every ten minutes.

The TV also has an Aux channel, which is a complicated channel you can play games on such as Sonic. She thinks Sonic is real, and I once caught her in the garden at night calling him with a bowl of milk.

The buyer will collect the item in person from Swindon from a neutral address. This is because my current home is being forensically cleaned in an attempt to prevent the inhalation of warts via airborne pathogen.

Swindon incidentally is a town in England. Early colonists of Swindon in the 1800s were originally en route to live in Bristol because it’s cool but mid-way on the journey the horses got tired and refused to move any further than Junction 15 of the M4. The first shops followed in 1840 and now Swindon has proudly progressed into a modern, up and coming town; with both a Boots and a handy Halfords.

Mole face ex girlfriend who I made famous on eBay was not the only dating mishap in my extremely unfortunate dating chronicle.

The girl with the burst sofa seemed to have everything.  She was pretty; she took care of her body and was the daughter of a wealthy man who owned a chain of household name shops!

She had been single for more than 7 years; she drove a posh German car and had renovated her house, which was actually a small castle to a lavish standard. She had a general air of “rich” about her but not a “my daddy buys me things” kind of rich, more a “I’m about to inherit millions and I smell of Horse” kind of rich. Horse smell aside, I was shocked she had been single for so long.

Anyway, we did a few Horsey dates, which are the sort of dates that rich people go on, where you go to quiet places to talk, primarily quietly and drink wine which costs more than Wales.

After date 13 or so (13 btw, is the average random number dates girls require before allowing you your allotment of intercourse) I was invited over to the house for “dinner”.

After “dinner” everything all seemed to be going to plan…the candles had been accidentally lit and Luther Vandross was accidentally on repeat on the Bose I-pod dock, which she pronounced as “BOW-ZAAY”.

Kissing began and clothes were removed in the obligatory order.

I was stood in the kitchen with my Jeans still on looking at what appeared to be a beautiful woman in lingerie. ( it is cool for men to remove most of a girls clothes and retain jeans himself ) This was the point of no return, but why would that matter, it’s not like she was about to have the worlds most ugly lady garden.

And then I saw it. The most ugly lady thing I have ever seen in my whole alive life.

“This is no ordinary human being” I thought to myself, immediately looking around for her ship. What had been unleashed and previously unfathomably collapsed into Victoria’s Secret was a nothing less than monster of complete and utter colossal proportion. This did not require pants. This required a hammock or a crane.

This was quite indescribably the most astonishing thing I had ever seen. A bewildering assemblage of pleats, folds and furrows, which presumably led to a clearing or did it? But I dare not tred that path. What if it was a wormhole and I ended up in 1941? How do I know which section does what? What if it explodes? How deep is this thing? What if it’s mother comes?  Ominously hung several inches from it’s host it seemed to be waiting, poised in its closed state, pretending to be a pretty flower, all the while tricking its prey. But this was no pretty flower. I could not see its eyes but I knew it was looking at me.

I had to think fast,  decide whether to gear up and confront this creature or decide to find an ingenious way to re-robe this thing that I had just dis-robed. Perhaps if I covered it again it might not see me, maybe that would disable it from somehow fully unraveling its tentacles right there in the kitchen.

I would need a good excuse to re-robe a 13 date disrobe. “This will have to be good” I thought as I continued to kiss the host in order not to distract or alarm what lay asleep beneath.

Suddenly it hit me. So I began to spontaneously convulse and buck. It was the only getaway. The only choice. Face humiliation, or face the giant salivating squid.

I left quickly, apologizing for my mishap. It saved hurting her feelings and me from being scarred for life.

Some weeks later we spoke on Skype and I told her I am sorry that I was part epileptic and I hoped she didn’t think something else had happened.

I also decided that it would be fair reasonable and  appropriate to approach the uncomfortable subject, I felt that as a man it was my duty and as a woman of her resources she could take it. Honesty after all is the fabric of any good relationship. So I dug my heels into the carpet and gritted my teeth and told her bluntly that Bose simply was not pronounced like that.

We never spoke again.

Boogie

After the million pound, ( that is currency if you are reading this in America or Australia ) auction on the internet, I was today somewhat maliciously text, by the subject of the auction content.
SGF – Oh how very funny your eBay listing was you are such a child, glad you only got £70.

Me – Thanks, you are such a prostitute, isn’t the going rate less than that these days?

SGF – Maybe I just got bored of you, did that not occur to your beloved 1000 viewers?

Me – I am surprised you can work the internet, did you do a course? Oh, and it was 650,000, but let’s not split grey hairs over it.

SGF – I am not going to continue this childish banter you clearly don’t want to talk seriously about this.

Me – Did you know that Enrique had his removed?

Editor:

SGF – Stands for Stupid Girlfriends, by the way, however I am sure you will comment with a much better acronym in this particular case

Boogie

Having been reprimanded like a naughty school child. I was forced, after they took down the original listing to re list. Making sure that the description “accurately described the item” and did not “offend” or contain “excessive profanity or voilence”

So.

A white storm watch – it is nice – it is in a red box – it was worn twice – by a person – the person is me – the watch tells the time – it is white – it has chrome bits on it – it has Storm written on it’s face – It has a second hand  – it is nice – it includes the following numbers.

1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
and also
12

—-

But like good soldiers – we fought on. And I duly answered your questions in the most appropriate way…

Description

If you want to look like an offensively rich footballer at fraction of the cost take a look at this bad boy. This rather delicious watch for the sportier men among you was given to me by my idiot of an ex girlfriend, who by the way ended up in bed last Thursday with Steve. Steve, for your information, is not me.

Unfortunately I have only worn this watch twice since she purchased it for me – Oh how extravagant of her -”Oh what gift can I buy my boyfriend, I know. I’ll go to Covent Garden to the STORM shop and buy him a watch but come home with 12 pairs of shoes for myself and a 3 Grand Breitling for Steve” By the way she also has big feet. Size 9. On a woman, yes that’s what I said she should be in the circus. “Roll up Roll up for the incredible big footed lady with a hairy eye wart”.

I was going to ask Steve if after eating my girlfriend’s body in front of me, he might want to purchase the watch. I also then offered him my girlfriends thrush pessaries from the bathroom cabinet. He declined both politely and drove off in his Grey 2002 plate Ford Focus – LX. Grey like his personality, complexion and most of his hair.

So as Mr Grey and Sasquatch Mole Eye wander off happily holding hands, I will be withholding all the items remotely connected to our relationship in escrow and sending them romantically on their way to eBay.

PS – As Steve is actually my boss and I punched him hard in the face and subsequently do not have a job, the revenue from the sale of these items will go toward feeding myself and my poor cat Judy, who sadly lost her tail and one of her legs in a lathe accident.”