MySingleFriend

Tom said...

Well clearly you think he's good looking or we wouldn't have got this far. And now, like the millions who have come before, you are struck down with a sense of baffled wonderment:

How can a man this handsome, this charming and (whisper it), this fantastically well endowed (seriously), not already have nine wives and a hundred mistresses?

Well we don't know the answer either. Of course, it probably doesn't help that most of his hometown think he has sex with his pet dog Sanchez, but it's not true, and I should know, I started the rumour.

Joe Joe Joe. Little Joseph. What is there to say? He's immaculately dressed, he's extremely polite, he's rather amusing, and sensitive to the point of borderline homosexuality, but more in Stephen Fry than a Julian Clary way.

If you're interested in boring work chat, Joe does marketing. He was a hairdresser once, briefly, but that little career came effectively to an end six years ago, sat in A & E with me, waiting to see if the top part of my ear, which by this point was on my lap wrapped in two pieces of toilet paper, could possibly be sewn back on. (It couldn't. It was dead. We'd been waiting too long. Bloody NHS).

So ladies, if you see him coming at you with a pair of scissors. Run a mile. But if he's coming at you with his usual gold medal chat, squidgy little cheeks, and ruffly little hair, then well, you've won the lottery. Not, like, the jackpot or anything, we're talking five numbers max and not including bonus ball, but still north of four figures, and it all counts.