
Some human females attract a certain type of human male—the geezer. This type of individual is prone to announcements such as, “Oi oi, darlin’, can I get your number?”
In the geezer’s persistent efforts to get your number, he may roll out the big behemoth of them all—”Come on! Can I get your number, sweetheart?”
These are not dissimilar to those guys who overuse the laughing crying emoji (😂😂😂😂😂).
Human females dealing with Sweetheart Geezers, as the lexicon goes, must fend off such attempts with clever wordplay. Here be how.
Sweetheart Geezers: The Pursuit of Sickly Sweet Nouns In An Attempt to Induce Procreation
Dear agony aunt,
My name is Carla. I am 21 years old and I am from Brighton. Recently I’ve had many, many men using many, many annoying romantic lines with me.
Recently it is mainly just “sweetheart”.
Why do men call me this? I don’t know how sweet my heart actually is. To be honest I’m quite a nasty, malicious bitch at the best of times and I revel in the suffering of others. Like, really—I just want to watch the world burn and I’d love nothing more than to conquer the world and be Supreme Ruler, where I’d rule with an iron fist and inflict grand scale devastation across global communities.
I’ve told this to my mother and she said it was “concerning” but a “phase” I’ll “probably grow out of”. Is she right? I don’t feel the need to grow out of this.
Anyway, I’ve tried explaining this to guys who cat call me and many of them react like, “Wot the fak are you talkin’ about, darlin’?” Followed by, “Give me your number, babe!” So, they’re not getting the message.
Basically, I’m sick of this “sweetheart” rubbish and I want to instil a sense of fear, if not terror, in these men. I want them to see me and run away screaming, fleeing for their very lives. This’d bring me a great deal of satisfaction.
Meanwhile, world domination seems a way off.
Currently, I stack shelves in the local Tesco Express. But I figure within the next few years I’ll be store manager there and from that launchpad I can come crushing down on the rest of humanity with my demented end goals. What do you reckon? Thanks, Carla
Hi there, Carla. This type of man bloke is analogous to the “You’d be prettier if you smiled” sort. As in, very stupid and a bit of a prat.
Whilst a swift kick to the testicles would solve this matter, it does constitute assault and you’d probably spend 10 years in solitary confinement for your actions.
That’d put a serious dent in your goals of fascistic world domination.
Of those, we must note we don’t condone your plans there. They sound a bit demented, but your mother is probably right. You’ll probably grow out of that. Probably.
Whilst you wait for that great day to arrive, our suggestions for dealing with this “sweetheart” conundrum is as follows:
- Buy a load of those chalky Love Hearts sweets and have them on hand 24/7. These things.
- Whenever a geezer calls you a “sweetheart” you rush over to him and hand over ONE of these chalky sweets.
- As he consumes the product, make a swift prayer to Beelzebub that he chokes on the thing.
- If he starts choking, great! Walk off and leave him to it.
- If he doesn’t start choking and just consumes the sweet, walk off leaving him feeling bemused.
Hopefully, the confusion he feels about being offered free sweets will befuddle him. That befuddlement is your opportunity to make an escape, Carla.
However, we get the impression you’d probably be more interested in garrotting the poor bastards. So, just go with whatever suits your depraved machinations.

I suggest she invest in phony business cards ( it’s fun to use the phone number from Domino’s Pizza) and while making a quick get away because she has a very important meeting , give the bloke one. Everyone’s happy (for awhile) and she is laughing all the way home.
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Oh my days, that’s PERFECT. You want my number? Sure, here’s the number of another “sweetheart” guy who gave me HIS number and now you two can have a lovely chitchat ahahahhahaha.
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You forgot to send me the number. What’s up?
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We don’t have numbers in England, we rely on pigeon mail. Git wid da thymes.
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I’ve sat ( love saying “sat” ) my pidgin mail retriever by the gate.
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The cat sitted on the matt.
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While sat on the Matt my cat ate the fish and chips and mushy peas.
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Sheesh, cat will be speaking with a strong Bolton accent soon and calling you “sweetheart”. Get the cat back on the prawns.
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Me and the cat sat by the gate waiting for the mail.
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You will be waiting for some time. Pigeons are slow.
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OH…I like this!
How about if the phone number on the fake Domino’s Pizza business card was actually to the local cop shop?
OR ..haha … to the Professional Moron office!
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Pffft. We don’t have an office these days, we operate out of a hole in the ground (i.e. a ditch).
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What happened?!?
Is it at least a nice ditch?
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It’s the best ditch in England, I assure you. We’ve even given it an affectionate nickname – Ditchy.
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Huh!
Well, good on you for scoring the best ditch!
Ditches don’t come easy these days.
Ditchy sounds kitschy! I like it.
So mail would go to:
Mr. Wapojif
Ditchy
Manchester, England
U.K.?
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Oh, the ditch is still £900 p/m (no pets), but it’s still a good ditch.
Yes, send all mail via carrier pigeon to that address. Please note, if you’re sending us cash it must be over $5,000 CAD.
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Wow! I hope ditches don’t get that expensive here.
Send you cash? I was just going to send a congratulations on your new ditch office card.
Doesn’t matter anyway. It seems there are no congratulatory cards concerning moving into ditches. Sad, eh?
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No, not sad at all! That’s a gap in the market and I now intend to begin a ditch-based novelty card company. Billions await!
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Ditch based…. it’s new. I believe no one has ever marketed anything ditch based!
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Mark my words, in 2024 ditches will be IN. Musk will rename X to DITCH and he’ll move into a ditch and you’ll want to TOO. So there.
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Perfect! I’ve always wished we could ditch Musk!
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If he’s about to start charging us for Twitter then, yeah, I think a few hundred million will be ditching the big man baby.
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Interesting.
I haven’t been going there much lately. Every time I go, there is this big X – I feel like I’m in a cult.
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Yeah, I think he’s convinced himself it sounds cool. When it doesn’t and it just looks sleazy and gross. A bit like him, really.
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Apparently, we the mini people owe him a lot because of his communications thingy.
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By communications thingy you must mean pigeon mail.
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Okay!
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All is not lost. He can order a pizza. That’ll send a warm glow right to his heart or some where.
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