Normally, I have the fella's on me case on a constant. But since moving to London, I have found no fucker wants me. Me ma says it's cos I'm too common for fellas' down 'ere. I've tried eatin' olives an avacados an tha but still, not'in. I switched from Blossom Hill to Prosecco too but even tha didn't work.
Me mates down here seem to think I should experiment with "The Natural Look". I told them to go throw themselves on The Bakerloo. Sif I'm walkin round with only one layer of foundation an no eyebrows to speak of! Anyway, I tried, and the only fellas I seemed to be attracting were borderline Sunday School Teachers and proper little melts from the mediaaahh. I proper hate lads in the Media.....but I'll come onto that later.
So I tried Tinder, yeah, an I got lucky. His name is Jay an he's an Arsenal fan. He's a bit cocky, cheeky an is up for a laugh. He's not one of these uptight fellas who work at Bishopsgate and work you round their schedules consisting of Pow Wow's and business lunches at Wasabi. Nah, he's a grafter. Manual Labour. We we're havin "decent chat" as they say here, and we got on to the subject of the Channel 4 documentary "The Undateables". "Saw you on that the other day" he said laughin, thinkin he was hilar. "Yeah" I replied, "I'd been set up with some little creature called Jay". Soon shurrup didn't he? Then Liverpool battered Arsenal and he realised he didn't have a leg to stand on.
I think he has binned me off for bein funnier than him. Oh well, least I got a hoodie out of it. Superdry one too. S'right.
Tra xoxoxo
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