Recently, while negotiating with the ‘lady who decides everything’ about some possible future game of Doctors and Nurses, I found myself essentially making a list of all the pros that came with my idea. I know what you are thinking and you are right, I am a romantic fool and master of seduction.
Anyway, because I believe in sharing the wealth, here is my A to Z of reasons why getting a slice of Glen-cake should be top of any woman’s bucket list.
A is for athletic. Admittedly I’m only talking about my feet but it still counts.
|The Boboli Gardens 1996|
B is for body. I most certainly do have a model’s body; I’ve been the muse for many an artist’s sculpture.
C is for considerate lover. I totally understand a woman’s needs and take great care not to jolt about so much that you lose your place in your Kindle.
D is for donkey. Just saying. Actually, to be more accurate, I’m usually described as an Ass but I’ve already done ‘A’.
E is for euphemism. During foreplay you will be impressed by how many different words for boobs I know. That should be more than enough to get you going.
F is for Foreplay. See 'E'.
G is for gratitude. I always say “Thank You” Politeness costs nothing.
H is for hairy. Chest, back, toes everything. Except head.
I is for imagination, which you will need plenty of if you are to see George Clooney in the room.
J is for Justin – those people whose imagination can’t see Mr. Clooney can pretend they are with Justin (aka Mr. Tumble) instead.
K is for Kilos – about 95 of them to be precise, ask a scientist for a detailed answer about why that’s important but it’s all about momentum, apparently.
L is for longevity which is not something I’m blessed with so you can relax. There’s no need to miss Desperate Housewives, we can easily get things sorted during the commercials.
M is for manly. I can assure you I’m all man and can prove this by repeatedly farting during E and F.
N is for no socks. Pre-sex sock-removal is 100% guaranteed when you are with Glen.
O is for orgasm (obviously). I can, again, 100% guarantee that one of us will have one.
P is for post-coital pizza; I was raised to be a gentleman so I will always let you relax as I pop downstairs to answer the door.
Q is for quick; they don’t call me lightening for nothing. No woman has ever complained of getting bored during lovemaking with me, there just isn’t time.
R is for romantic. This list should be more than enough proof of that – especially 'N'.
S is for small. No need to feel intimidated or anxious with me – you’ll hardly know it’s there.
T is for treacle – or Golden Syrup to be more precise – we all have our weaknesses.
U is for uniform. I do have one of those.
V is for volume, or more importantly, the lack of it. I’m not a tennis player and see no real need for over-emphasised grunting.
W is for wet patch, which a gentleman like me will always volunteer to sleep in.
X is for xylophone-playing, which apparently requires very strong wrists and fast moving hands. I suspect I’d be good on a xylophone.
Y is for “Yabba-dabba-doo”, which I may occasionally shout at seemingly very inappropriate times. This may slightly contradict ‘V’ but does at least deflect attention away from the simultaneous farting.
And finally, Z was going to be for xylophone until Spell-Checker got involved but now stands for ZZZZ, which is all you’ll be hearing from me between Yabba-dabba-doo and the doorbell announcing the pizza is ready. I won’t keep you from your book with idle chat or questions about which bit you liked best.
So there you go. 26 highly agreeable reasons as to why my wife should have succumbed to my devastating charms last Saturday night. All I need to know from you readers is..
1. Why didn't it work?
2. How do you remove a tin of treacle from your backside without the lid coming off?