So you know that dating gameshow on ITV, Take Me Out? Well in my final year of uni, my friends volunteered me for the college version, despite my strong protests. It was a pretty low-rent version: instead of lights we had balloons… that we weren’t even allowed to pop because they needed reusing each round – so we just unceremoniously threw them at the ground if we didn’t like the look of the guy! And to be frank, I wasn’t mightily thrilled by the prospects on offer since I already knew most of the boys in my college and, well, let’s just say I was still single.

Anyway, the first couple of guys go by and I sullenly ditch my balloon each time in protest to being there against my will (much to the chagrin of my matchmaking friends). But then the third guy comes out… and my oh my. He was literally a Swedish model. Seriously it is impossible to exaggerate how attractive this guy was – suddenly I wasn’t so sulky any more. His talents were building IKEA furniture and juggling! He had a cute accent! (so so cute) Let me reiterate – he was a model! The balloon stayed up. The number of girls was gradually whittled down and to the extremely vocal delight of my friends I soon found myself in the final two, vying for the Swedish lothario’s affections.

Then came the moment when he asked us each a subtly provocative question to which we were required to give a flirtatious, while not overly lascivious answer. I forget the question, but fortunately I knew a few words of Swedish:

“Jag älskar din kuk” (I love your cock).

The date was in the bag.

A few days later we actually went on this famous date, and we were having a lovely time. We had gone for a drink and had just picked up some dinner to have by the river (so romantic) when I felt something fall in my hair. The unthinkable had happened. I had been shat on. By a bird. All over my hair. In the middle of my first date with a gorgeous Swedish male model.

Of course I had. Naturally.

Not to worry though, I had a plan. I explained the situation to my somewhat alarmed date, who pretended not to be repulsed, and invited him back to my room for a shower…

I’m not sure my roommate ever really believed my story as to why, when she returned that evening, I was sitting in my bed, clearly freshly showered, watching a Monty Python movie with a slightly perturbed-looking Adonis… and a mischievous look on my face 😉