Valentine's Day

Valentine’s, the most sexual of holidays, is upon us. I can always tell because this time of year has an adverse effect on those of the feminine persuasion. For some reason that I haven’t quite fathomed yet, they become sexually aggressive around this time of year.

It’s not like I’m asking for this attention. I’m not exactly wearing buttless leather chaps and a t shirt that says “get it here”. If I were single I’d welcome the advances of young women, but as I’m not, I live in constant fear that my girlfriend might think that I am bringing this on myself.

For example, at the train station this morning I stopped for a coffee and a cookie (as part of a nutritious breakfast). As I went to the till to pay for my items, the young lady prodded at the cash register a few times, then smiled politely and said “Sorry I pressed the wrong button”, then proceeded to charge me less for my items, saving me £1 in total. This was totally unacceptable. Blatant flirting on this scale is an attack on me and my human rights. I have the right to purchase coffee and cookies with money, and not be expected to make up the shortfall in sexual favours, as she was obviously proposing.  In retaliation, I overturned her little coffee stand and threw her cash register into the path of an oncoming train. That’ll teach her for sexually assaulting me!

Then, when I boarded the train, a lady came by and asked to see my ticket. When I handed over said ticket, she smiled broadly and told me to have a nice journey. A nice journey? What, with you? To the bathroom? Not a chance! I smashed the emergency glass and demanded to be let off this instant, before she raped me. Many people were angry that I caused the train to stop and delayed their working day, but what they fail to realise is that I was almost a victim of a violent crime. The train company told me that I couldn’t ride their service again, and tried to charge me £50 for improper use. I decided I’d fight this fine in court.

The symbol of fear!

After I walked all the way back into town, I went to my lawyer’s office to discuss my options. After steering clear of the women on reception (who were no doubt hornier than a rhino-skin pin cushion), I was horrified to learn that my lawyer also possessed ovaries. At any other time of year I wouldn’t have a problem with this, but she was obviously on the prowl by the way she pulled out a chair for me and patted the seat, inviting me into her lair. I gave her the benefit of the doubt and sat down, but my initial trust was soon shattered as she told me I had an “interesting case”. What is that, some kind of disgusting euphemism?

In my panic I accidentally threw a chair at the window and tried to escape through it. The lawyer was shouting for help; obviously calling for backup from the reception girls. Who knows what they would have done to me. I ran across the nearby fields and lived feral for the next two hours, until I heard a siren in the distance.

Hoping for assistance, I ran into the road and began waving my arms to flag down the passing police car. As it pulled over, a female police officer got out, tackled me to the ground and put me in handcuffs. If it wasn’t for her burly male colleague who picked me up and bundled me into the police car, I’d have been at her depraved mercy.

Thankfully, I got to spend the night in the cells away from molestation at the hands of these women. I met some nice people in prison. One chap called Carl kept cuddling me to comfort me after my ordeal. Then he had me bend over and he gave me an injection in my bum, which would ward off any potential lady rapists. He had to do it again and again for about 10 minutes before he managed to discharge the medicine from his thick, warm syringe. Still, at least it’s all over for another year.