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Dalek

Veet Hair Removal Cream

I found this posted on another forum - called Over the Gate which focuses on country matters.  I found the forum when looking for ideas to use my gooseberries from the garden.

Anyway, credits over - I hope you enjoy this as much as I did.  Tears were rolling from my eyestalk.

Apparently .....This letter was actually sent into Veet.... (hair removal cream maker)

Dear Sir or Madam,
"After having been told my danglies looked like an elderly Rastafarian I decided to take the plunge and buy some of this as previous shaving attempts had only been mildly successful a...nd I nearly put my back out trying to reach the more difficult bits. Being a bit of a romantic I thought I would do the deed on the missus's birthday as a bit of a treat.
I ordered it well in advance and working in the North Sea I considered myself a bit above some of the characters writing the previous reviews and wrote them off as soft office types...oh my fellow sufferers how wrong I was. I waited until the other half was tucked up in bed and after giving some vague hints about a special surprise I went down to the bathroom. Initially all went well and I applied the gel and stood waiting for something to happen. I didn't have long to wait.
At first there was a gentle warmth which in a matter of seconds was replaced by an intense burning and a feeling I can only describe as like being given a barbed wire wedgie by two people intent on hitting the ceiling with my head.
Religion hadn't featured much in my life until that night but I suddenly became willing to convert to any religion to stop the violent burning around the turd tunnel and what seemed like the destruction of the meat and two veg. Struggling to not bite through my bottom lip I tried to wash the gel of in the sink and only succeeded in blocking the plughole with a mat of hair.
Through the haze of tears I struggled out of the bathroom across the hall into the kitchen by this time walking was not really possible and I crawled the final yard to the fridge in the hope of some form of cold relief. I yanked the freezer drawer out and found a tub of ice cream, tore the lid of and positioned it under me. The relief was fantastic but only temporary as it melted fairly quickly and the fiery stabbing soon returned.
Due to the shape of the ice cream tub I hadn't managed to give the starfish any treatment and I groped around in the draw for something else as I was sure my vision was going to fail fairly soon. I grabbed a bag of what I later found out was frozen sprouts and tore it open trying to be quiet as I did so. I took a handful of them and tried in vain to clench some between the cheeks of my butt. This was not doing the trick as some of the gel had found its way up the chutney channel and it felt like the space shuttle was running its engines behind me.
This was probably and hopefully the only time in my life I was going to wish there was a gay snowman in the kitchen which should give you some idea of the depths I was willing to sink to in order to ease the pain. The only solution my pain crazed mind could come up with was to gently ease one of the sprouts where no veg had gone before.
Unfortunately, alerted by the strange grunts coming from the kitchen the other half chose that moment to come and investigate and was greeted by the sight of me, butt in the air, strawberry ice cream dripping from my bell end pushing a sprout up my butt while muttering..." Ooooh that feels good ".
Understandably this was a shock to her and she let out a scream and as I hadn't heard her come in it caused an involuntary spasm of shock in myself which resulted in the sprout being ejected at quite some speed in her direction. I can understand that having a sprout farted against your leg at 11 at night in the kitchen probably wasn't the special surprise she was expecting and having to explain to the kids the next day what the strange hollow in the ice cream was didn't improve my status...
So to sum it up Veet removes hair, dignity and self respect......."
sheeps

   

Saying nowt.
Late Doors

 I hate good food going to waste as well
carp

In my rugby days I put deep heat on my upper thigh and accidentally my scrotum, to sort a strain. Did this after a hot shower then bed. After not too many minutes was in bathroom with balls in a cold sink. Is that relevant? Probably not. It's all about sharing isn't it? * my name's steve i'm an alcoholic*
sheeps

carp wrote:
In my rugby days I put deep heat on my upper thigh and accidentally my scrotum, to sort a strain. Did this after a hot shower then bed. After not too many minutes was in bathroom with balls in a cold sink. Is that relevant? Probably not. It's all about sharing isn't it? * my name's steve i'm an alcoholic*


Once turned up to a football game complaining of being tired and hung over.

My team mate suggested a muscle rub to sort me out. You guessed it, Fiery Jack administered a little higher than I anticipated, "there mate, that will get you going". Didn't stop running for 90 minutes, sat with my balls in a cup of water at half time.
Plastic Man

A chap at Rotary used to work in a prison where the officers had formed a rugby team. When one of their number was injured during a game, the trainer ran on and started massaging Deep Heat into the affected area.

Then slipped a large blob of it up the poor fellow's jacksie.

That certainly had him up and running about pretty sharpish.
Heyho

Plastic Man wrote:
A chap at Rotary used to work in a prison where the officers had formed a rugby team. When one of their number was injured during a game, the trainer ran on and started massaging Deep Heat into the affected area.

Then slipped a large blob of it up the poor fellow's jacksie.

That certainly had him up and running about pretty sharpish.


There was a lad who played Rugby with us who had 'learning difficulties'. Someone did the same trick with his underpants. Lets just say he was a little uncomfortable in the pub afterwards

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