Men are like flies. They buzz about the place making a big fuss, but most of them are just a bit alarming and you want to get rid of them. So you either whack it with a fly swat or open a window until the thing leaves. But in opening the window, 33 more enter your property! WTF!? Why are there so many of these annoying bastards!?

But some women, for whatever reason, want to date these hairy, smelly things. They’re eager to subject themselves to dating… *shudder* a man bloke. Well, if you are a man bloke and you spot a female human of interest, let us know and we’ll send you on a date to KFC.

Women Seeking Men

Box #1 – Dickhead Deidre: Yep. Me again. Still dating. Still a dickhead. I’m taking a Suppress Your Inner Dickhead course. But until I pass that, I’m still classified as a dickhead. Think you want to date me? Well, don’t bother. I’m ****ing horrible and I’ll make your life a misery. You bastard.

Box #2 – Polly: Hello, I’m Polly and one-third of my brain thinks I’m a parrot. It’s like Tourette’s syndrome, but instead of disgraceful profanity I blurt out things like, “Polly want a cracker!” and “Pieces of eight!” It gets annoying after about 10 minutes. One-tenth of my brain also thinks I’m a bucket of sludge, so sometimes you’ll find me slouched in cylindrical open containers with a look of indifference on my face. You’ll get used to it.

Box #3 – Mildred the Magnificent: Hello men. I’m Mildred and I’m a superhero. My superpower is the ability to finishes your sentences. I’m hailed by feminists as the mansplainer killer. I take my mission very seriously so don’t expect to get a word in edgeways, yes?

Box #4 – Sassy Spurlockian: I don’t identify as female, or male, or human. I consider myself as a heliocentric oblong manifestation of our Lord and Saviour – film documentary maker Morgan Spurlock. As a Spurlockian I believe He created the universe in 2004 with the release of anti-McDonald’s manifesto Supersize Me. I sport a handlebar moustache and only ever eat with a microphone attached to myself, thusly ensuring everyone gets to hear me masticating at disgusting volume levels. If you’re a fellow Spurlockian, get in touch and let us pray before the altar of our God. Extra kudos if you’re called Morgan. I’ll marry you on the spot if your surname happens to be Spurlock or a close variation (e.g. Sherlock, Slurpock, Spurbolt etc.)

Box #5 – Dribbling Daisy: Hi, guys! I’m Daisy and I’m a professional dribbler. I enter national and international dribbling competitions. The idea is to dribble as much as possible into a bucket. Whoever gets the most dribble in there wins a prize – usually about $50. I’m really committed to my career, but if you’re willing to dedicate your life to supporting my journey to International Dribbling Champion then please we should go on a date.

Box #6 – Makeup Mary: I wear a lot of makeup. I’m covered from head to toe in the stuff. I also drink perfume to ensure my breath smells good. They call me Makeup Mary. So if you want to date a glowing orange blob, hit me up.

Box #7 – Mindy the Merciless: I’m a professional tyrant hell bent on destroying society, one merciless step at a time! I will not rest until humanity kneels before me in terror!! It is my desire to murder at least 80% of the human population!!! I want death, destruction, agony, and horror to be my legacy!!!! In my spare time I like cuddles, reality TV shows, baking cakes, and swooning over cute bunny rabbits. If you’d like to join me for discussions about Love Island, please say hello. However, please note that after a man has born me a child it is my duty to slay the human male, tear his head from his body, incinerate his corpse, and stick his skull on a spike. Sorry about that, it’s just my custom.

Box #8 – Rapping Rachel: So the name is Rachel, but I’m no angel, my spacial awareness is low, and that’s kind of a body blow, uh huh yeah, but then I’m not a total bitch, unlike when you get a stitch, but then gangrene would be worse, it’s a bit of a curse. Uh huh, yeah, mother ****er brap brap brap brap! So the name is Rachel, I got a satchel, and I’m pretty faithful, but I’ve done a few crimes, but not as bad as Rick Grimes, although I did stab a man in the groin, and to do that I used a really sharp coin, so he bled to death, and his screaming made me partially deaf, but to make up for it I went for a date with a really top chef. Innit. Aight!

Box#9 – Stupid Cindy: High guys! I’m Cindy and I like two go shopping and when I go shopping I like to bye lots of pressies and I like to bye lots of cheap red wine and then I go home and I sit and watch TV and I eat my pressies and I eat the red wine and then a bit squiffy I throw up all over myself. So I want a man around to clean up after me. Fanks.

Box #10 – Surreal Susan: No goat has ever bested me! There is not a cake on the island of Bermuda that was not baked by a potato. You will find $40 million in gold coins hidden inside my large intestine, placed there by the son of Vlad the Impaler. Beseech! All dates with a male must take place at midday precisely under moonlight, with discussions revolving around sewage systems, sewer workers, and my intention to leap from the Eiffel Tower and fly to the Moon (whilst dressed as Mr. McHenry from the Magic Roundabout). Yes. YES!