I found my love at a teenage Gypsy auction
Taking girls out on dates sucks because you spend the whole time trying to be the drunk-genie controlling how pissed you both are. Obviously she’s got to be drunk enough to think you’re nice, then you’ve got to be drunk enough to turn this into sexy, then, because you’re drunk and overstretching your sense of humour, she’s got to be drunk enough to mistake you being offensive for post-irony, then you’ve got to be drunk enough to try and do the sex – but without being so drunk that you lose your hard-on in the cab and you end up making-out with a dick that feels like a shit in a balloon. Of course you could do a bunch of coke, but unless she’s a 46-year-old speed-freak, doing bumps in a Pizza Express toilet is only going to make her cry. There must be an easier way to get a nice girl then by monitoring her booze. Oh, wait; it’s teenage Gypsy bride auction time again!
I can’t believe it’s been nearly a year since the last Day of Saint Todor. Every year lonely young men go to the mud and romance filled car-parks of Bulgaria and buy themselves teenage brides for up to £30,000. It's a magical place where love pours into the air like smog from the exhaust of a 1964 Moskvich 408 Tourist and chokes the happy new couples with the wonder of Horse Easter (yes, yes, the bring-and-buy-a-bride-day is also known as Horse Easter, get over it). I'm done with high-maintenance Oldham girls, I'm going to go get me some happiness with a gold-tooth smile.