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Profile for The Archduke of South London:
Profile Info:

About 1.93cm.
Likes walks in the woods.
Gorgonzola is evil.
Don't own a cat.
Once won an ice cream eating competition.
Good at doing fuckall at weekends and making loud ff.ff...fffnar noises.
Sold fudge at the school bake sale and labelled it ninja turtle fudge.
Was last in a fist fight in 1992.
Can potentially blow milk through my tear duct. Working on technique.
Am mostly good with apostrophes.

Recent front page messages:


none

Best answers to questions:

» Sexism

Bad moods
I'm not sure why, but for some reason it's forbidden for a man to be in a bad mood without having a damn good reason. Sometimes you just had a normal day at the office, you didn't get harassed on the tube, the supermarket had everything you wanted and it's a beautiful sunny day, but you just are in a shit mood. There isn't anything to explain or a hidden meaning. It just is what it is.

So you come home, you're grumpy and you just want some me time. She senses something is wrong by the monotone drawl in your voice so with obvious concern she asks what it is:

'Nothing', I reply.
'Nothing?', she asks with an incredulous look upon her face.
'Yes, nothing. I'm just in a shit mood'.

Now I should point out at this point that it's socially acceptable in every females eyes to be in a downright disgustingly heathen and abusive mood with the 'love of their life' at least once a month. So why can't I have the same privileges? Why can't I just have my moment in the burning cauldren of Satan's front room while I stew in foul thought.

But, NOOOOO....there must be a reason and armed with her amateur psychology degree from the pages of Cosmopolitan magazine she presses on, and on, and on ....ad nauseum.

And so a few hours later you emerge from your personal hell with just enough emotional strength to muster an actual physical hug and a 'I'm sorry babe'. Not because you want to apologise mind, but sometimes it's easier to let the lawnmower run out of fuel than it is to keep listening to it whine away on the couch next to you.

But you know what the clincher is, and they don't write about this in Cosmo, it's so simple avoid all this crap. All she'd have to do is walk up to me, put her arms around me, look into my eyes and give me a big hug. Then slowly get down on her knees, unzip my pants and start sucking my cock. Bad mood gone, I'm happy and you've had a lovely starter before I happily toddle off to the kitchen to cook the main course.
(Mon 4th Jan 2010, 21:33, More)

» Social Networking Gaffes

Some years ago..
While still at school I ended up getting into a fight with the school bully and ended up throwing a book at his face. It was only years later that I realised how frighteningly close to a multi-billion dollar concept I was.
(Fri 12th Sep 2008, 9:58, More)

» Conversation Killers

A few years back..
I was in the throes of a passionate conversation with a lovely lady. Things were going well and I was getting all the positive signs that she liked me. Twirling of the hair, cheeky smile, a little playful tap as she admonished me for my snide remarks about the obese man at the end of the bar. The conversation turned to her age and she challenged me to guess how old she was. Of course women love to hear how young they look and I knew this game well. Only an idiot would profer a guess on the wrong side of your suspicions.

I asked to see her hands and stroked her soft dainty digits seductively while pretending to make my calculations. 'Oh, you don't look a day over 20' I said while gazing into her mesmerizing blue eyes. She cooed and flicked her blond locks and tilted her head back, "Actually I'm 26" she replied with a hint of celestial satisfaction that only a well timed comment can give. The whole episode would have made for a vomit inducing romantic scene in a cheap B movie.

Now with my considerable experience of such situations I knew the next steps towards a kiss and ultimately an appointment with her moo moo later on in the evening were a mere formality. She was a mere puppet in my grand scheme of operation "Get Shag part III" and she was all too willingly playing right into my hands. It was all too easy.

With the conversation of age fresh in our minds I allowed myself a slip that would surely rank up there with some of the most grandiose errors in history. First Watergate then the Janet Jackson nipple slip, next we had Chernobyl and finally this. So, I probed further, "What is that in dog years?".

Suffice to say the satellite circling my orbit beaming hardcore images into my imagination came crashing down to earth. Things took a turn for the worst and I was soon left alone to rue my lost opportunity.
(Thu 12th May 2011, 16:09, More)

» Pointless Experiments

Anal sex with the dog
What was I thinking?? She doesn't even like normal sex.
(Wed 30th Jul 2008, 14:21, More)

» Creepy!

Back from the dead...
Back when keeping pet hamsters was cool, guess what? Yes, we had a hamster. As was the usual course of events it eventually passed away. My sister discovered his lifeless and motionless corpse when she attempted to sequester him for his morning exercise routine. She was only about 7 at the time so the whole traumatic experience made her quickly become overcome with emotions and she rushed off in tears to fetch my dad. My dad,ever the consummate professional when it came to matters which required emotional integrity, displayed his usual sense of decorum and consideration by announcing on arrival at the scene of the dead rodent, "Mmm...yes it looks rather dead". Sensing my sisters complete and utter dismay and the current turn of events he then deigned to console her by saying, "Don't worry, we'll bury it when I get home from work". The exact words my sister then howled through her snot and tears escape me now, but they were suffice to say sufficiently moving to have my dad move the funeral forward some several hours to the morning.In fairly short order a funeral procession was making it's way out to the garden being lead at the front by a dead hamster majestically perched on the end of a small garden spade.

A burial ground was chosen post hast and we all watched as dad, who was resplendent in his work suit and shocking pink tie, got to his knees and dug a small hole to dispose of our most recently deceased family member. The rodent was unceremoniously dumped into the hole as the musky smell of the malboro hanging from dads lips drifted across the mourners.Dad's curt "Right!", pretty much signalled the end of the burial and we all shuffled back inside to start the difficult and unloved task of getting ready for school.

The death played on my young mind for some time after that, but by the time I had my school shoes on most of the grief had subsided. When I arrived at the school gates and had a quick game of footy I had all but recovered my composure and by the beginning of first break I had all but forgotten we even had a hamster. The crushing realisation of the sudden tragedy that had befallen our family was brought back into my consciousness in a surreal and creepy manner when I returned home that afternoon.

My sister found the corpse of the hamster on her bedroom floor not far from the scene of his former home. His dirt covered body lay motionless on the floor. Seemingly back from the dead was he trying to make his way back to his cage? My sisters poor mind exploded into implausible howls of confused tears. We all rushed to the scene and for the briefest of moments the logic of this whole surreal event threatened to elude us. However, as this all unfolded our dog Benji quietly slunk out of the room and was scarcely to be seen for the rest of the day.
(Thu 14th Apr 2011, 9:35, More)
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