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What immediately springs to mind here, is that old adage `Put your back into it'.  A  `Useless'  boyfriend, is never going to do that......never.  He is far too lazy.  The poor thing, He just can't be bothered.  It's like, `what's the point in taking another breath? I'm going to die-one-day-anyway-attitude.  Ladies, let me be frank, the best you can hope for in `The-Tripping-The-Light-Fantastic-U.B.-Stakes', is a night out at the local pub (Which incidentally, I'd still be pleased with) it is marginally better than the proverbial`Poke in the eye with a sharp stick' and a `smear test', so we're never going to complain, are we?

I digress but the fact  is, we've been severely let down with the cinematic worlds, totally unrealistic, romantic portrayal of the perfect gentlemen: David Niven, Matthew McFadden and Craig Daniel etc. So severely let down. All you film Directors hang your heads in shame, it's your fault.

  I bet even Daniel Craig is emasculated when it comes to living up to his high ideal.  I bet  `fakes it', when it comes to doing something imperatively vital for his wife (Oh to be a fly on the wall)

The scientific explaination for The U.B's `fake-in-it-in-it' (UB colloquial Venacular) is sheer laziness (it's in their DNA they can't help it) 

  Useless Dates I love these stories,  it is a modern day tragedy. Quite literally....they are....what's that word? Oh yeah........USELESS.
  Here then is my  list  of top ten,`Useless dates'  And so to kick off,  here is my current favourite.

  • You meet a guy briefly through, a friend-of-a-friend, several months ago.   He ticks all the boxes etc quiet, clean shaven, walks in a straight line, has a job; accountant........anyway, you meet him at Charing Cross (you think that it's a romantic undercurrent, as it's a monument that a king built for his beloved dead Queen)  He turns up.
    1)      Since you last saw him,  He has put on a dramatic amount of weight 
            (but that's not a problem)
    2)      He is drunk  (it's a bit of a problem)
    3)      He is wearing a really, really, dirty track suit (a problem)
    4)      He is wearing the most rancid, trainers you have ever seen (yep a 
             massive problem)
    In short, he looks like he has been living in a skip.
  • He says `Let's go to Covent garden.........but before we do, I wana go to Burger King' My friend follows him dunfounded.  They get to the Burger king counter, he slurs `What do you want?' She says blankly `Nothing'. An imperative argument ensues `Yes you must have something' She's; `No I  do not want anything' (primarily because she feels sick) however he goes on and on and on and on `Have something'.  She's; `No!' back and forth.....etc etc etc....blah blah.... Eventually after arguing for 3 minutes  He orders:
     `Two double cheese burger meals please'
    My friend then watches in horror, as 2 cheeseburger meals, come up. She sceams alarmed, `Two?!!'  He says;
     `Don't worry love, they are both for me'
    She excuses herself, flees to the toilet and phones her Mother. She remains there for half an hour (wrongly assuming that he, would leave)
    When she comes back down, the `Useless date', is still there albeit covered in mayonnaise.  He says `Why were you so long?' she says `Womens' problems'.
    Unbelievably, this has to be the only guy on the planet not to even pull a face , flinch, or look marginally disgusted or shocked, at the words `Womens' problems'. 
    In response he simply stated `I just gota go for a piss'
    My friend declared  that Hitherto, she was in a such a state of shock and that she just  `stumbled blindly', behind him  to Convent Garden.
    While on their way to Convent Garden, the UB, insisted that they stop at a pub in the Strand .  Again she lurched into the establishment behind him.
    He said  `I just gota go for a piss'  and disappeared.
    she ran to the toilet and phoned her Mother..... again.
    Once more she hung about, in the toilet, for longer than would denote, good  gynaecological health.  When she went back into the pub, to her horror in her absence, he had covered all bases.  He had ordered her an assortment of drinks: a whiskey, an al-co-pop, a brandy, a vodka and a gin. To compound her horror, he was sitting there with two empty pint glasses in front of him. She downed the gin in one.
    Next he said (Ground Hog Day) `I just gotta go for a piss'
    Eventually they got to Covent Garden.  By that time his countenance, was now  that, of a `drunk tramp covered in mayonnaise'   He went to the bar, she ran into the loo and phoned her Mother again, hoping that by the time she came out, he would definetly have gone.  She comes out and  he was still at the bar, nursing two empty pint glasses.  She blurted out
        `I want to go home.......I don't feel very well' and by now she genuinely did not feel well, at all.
    The UB said `OK........ I'll take you home on the train but I 've got  to go for a piss first'. 
    As he disappeared, she breathed a massive sigh of relief.
    He cames back from the toilet and they started walking back down to Charing Cross. As soon as she knew she was going to get away from him,  my friend started to feel better...until  he said
     `I  just got to go to  Burger King again, I want to get another cheese  burger  meal'
    They went in to Burger King and  he got another meal. 
    They  then walked into Charing Cross. He was now covered in mayonnaise and really, really drunk. He looked like a crack head.  My friend was mortified.
    She  looked at her watch and realised that they were going to miss their  train.
    She started running and shouted back at him
    `Quick we're going to miss the train'
    And  he retorted the immortally romantic words
    `You go on without me.....I've  just got to go  for another piss'
  • Hows about this then? After a perfectly lovely night out, up town....He tells you that.... ` We're getting a Night Bus'!
     A  Night Bus! A frigging Night  Bus!!!!!  Worst thing's haven't actually happened at sea.  Horatio Nelson may have tried to apprehend a Polar Bear as a boy but he certainly wouldn't have been brave enough to travel through Peckham High Street,  at  3am  in  the morning. There's bravery and then there's plain stupidity! Don't you worry about Shackleton either, he wouldn't  have had the constitution, heroism or  fortitude, to stay on a night  bus.  I know it took him  two years to get out of being stuck in the ice but  make no mistake, hold no illusions ladies, you will never, EVER, get over a trip on a  `Night Bus', through South  East London, especially if like my friend Mary, an extremely large man falls down the stairs drunk and then punches you straight in the face and breaks your nose.
  • You meet a guy on an Internet dating website.  You agree to meet him in Greenwich and go for a coffee (a classic euphemism for just about everything/anything under the sun)
    As you sit at your table; everything so far so good, until...........he pulls forth from his satchel, a key board (from a computer) and says `This is how we met and so I thought...I'd bring him along'......................... ( personification of anything: animal, vegetable, mineral,  computer- parts, or even the male-appendage, is classic, sheer, unadulterated `Uselessness'-get rid of him....QUICKLY)
  • The second date with an Estate Agent (and how does one build a bond of trust, with an...escape...oops...Freudian slip...I mean, Estate  Agent?) At the end of The second date, my girlfriend hears the immortal words `Come back to mine'. Stereotypical night of passion....blah, blah, blah, some have been there more than others.....unfortunately not me.....AND THEN..................
    Early the next morning He mutters `You lay in, I've got to get to work' and the Escape Estate Agent has  had it on his toes....the front door slams.
     An hour or so later, my friend is stirred from her sleep, by the sound of voices downstairs. She gingerly creeps down, only to be confronted by, an unknown Estate Agent, showing an extremely straight, middle-aged couple around the house (in other words a viewing). The penny drops.  This was not her `boyfriend's' house at all.  It was just `some' house, He nicked the to keys to, from at work. My friend looks at the middle-aged couple and hears herself utter pathetically `Do you know where I can get a cab?'
  •   I've  laughed about that one for years.  His name is Paul by the way.
  • Next Useless-blind-date-hell.  A colleague I used to work with, had been single for years.  She went out with her sister one night and drank so much, she couldn't remember anything (fair enough it was the 1980's.  It used to be a free country then)
    The next day her phone rings.  She is told by an unknown male caller, that her sister, had given him her phone number. As she hears herself telling `him', she couldn't possibly go out with a stranger, Her Mother (who had been listening the whole time from the kitchen) shouted out `Your  no Cindy Crawford love'.
     Pondering the insult (which was even more distressing than the unknown male caller) my colleague heard herself say `Yes I will go out with you'.  
  • At the arranged time, this person knocked at the girl's door. The person was remarkably short (which was not a problem).  As my friend walked down her garden path with the man, it soon became apparent, what the problem would be.   The  problem was to be a Porsche. First off,  it was an overtly, ostentatious, display of wealth, which my colleague found absolutely mortifying but what tipped her over the edge (trivial as it may seem) was the cars colour.  It was gold.
    As she quivered with dread and anxiety, in the heated leather, front seat, she sank as low, as she possibly could.  When the date enquired what the problem was? She told him she had a `pro-lapsed womb'.
    First off on the date of doom, He drove to a petrol station to fill up. Apparently he jumped out of the car,  like a parachutist, throwing himself from out of an aeroplane.  The trouble was because of her low-lying vantage point (and because he was so small) once he was out of the car, he was no longer visible to her.  She couldn't see him filling up with petrol, she couldn't see him in the garage and therefore she  had no way of preparing herself, for when he eventually did get back in the Gold car.
    The most disconcerting thing about the entire date, was that so many people were staring......why you might ask? And she did ask me too. Were they staring at her? At him? At the car? Or at the spectacle  of all three of them together? take your pick?
     And so to the end of the date (She  might have told me this story 25 years ago  but in my mind, it's a fresh as a daisy)
     The in-trepidation had turned itself inside out and it had rebounded back in upon itself.  Out of pity and sympathy, She asked him in for a `coffee'.
     The trouble was, he was so small that he couldn't use a chair functionally and I quote `when He sat on my Mum's carpet, He crossed his legs and folded himself up, like a little garden knob, with a fishing rod..... Soon enough he couldn't bear the weight, of the coffee in the cup and had to go home'.
     `He'  was not really useless, nor are garden knobs totally useless (children and old people like them and they make people with `learning difficulties' laugh....) but I just couldn't resist including that story however I think that the female population, would all be in agreement, that gold Porsches are fit for nothing; they are entirely useless, unless your a pimp.