[rusty trawler]

@peanut wrote:

Dear Rusty Trawler

As a nurse (as in the naughty dress up variety) I happen to know it’s very bad for a man to be without a date on valentines day. All that sexual energy and no release. Many a man has died from much less, I can tell you. And as a Good Samaritan I feel that it’s my duty to take pity on you, so please find my CV and a video (for educational purposes only) attached.

It might be a good idea to close the curtains whilst watching the video and mute the sound if you have thin walls.

Here are some testimonials for the attached film:

‘Yes! Yes! Yes!… I’ll have what’s she’s having.’ – Heat magazine

‘Bleeding hell! How did that one get a PG classification’ – Barry Norman

‘You don’t get many of those to the dozen’ – Empire magazine

‘Sorry I can’t review this film, I went blind after the first five minutes’ – The Sun

I look forward to hearing from you

Best wishes,

Snix

Dear Snix,

Please accept my apologies for taking so long to reply to you, but I’ve recently renewed an interest in films that was only ever invigorated by a certain Charlie Chaplin film. Tell me have you seen The Lady and The Tramp? If so, hasn’t audio-visual technology moved on remarkably since the days of silent films? However, I’m not sure that it was a good idea that the auteur of the film you enclosed chose to utilise the latest advances technology, it’s quite alarming when you witness an ample bosom shooting out of your TV screen in 3D.

You said the film was for educational purposes, I’m extremely keen to augment my erudition, tell me is that film part of a series? If so please send part two by courier or carrier pigeon at your earliest convenience.

Regards

Rusty Trawler

P.S: Do you happen to know if the young starlet in the film has a fan club?

[rusty trawler]

@kent f OBE wrote:

Dear Lusty Caller

I too have been left on the shelf and once again be on my own on Valentines Day.

You sound like the kind of man I would love to share the rest of my life with, my mum promises she won’t interfere with any more of my relationships and has assured me I will be allowed to go out on a date without her in tow. Her legs aren’t what they used to be.

I am 49 years old, 5’6, have jet black hair which looks so natural after a colour treatment. My hobbies are signing up for every dating site on the internet possible, volounteering in the hospital shop, which I do once a week for an hour after my weekly appointments. My psychiatrist said it would help me come out of my shell and give me a new confidence. I never thought sellling a quarter of mint humbugs could be so much fun.
Mummys really proud of me.

I am quite shy and don’t know what else to say, but if you decide you would like a few more letters before we actually meet, I will ask one of my 196 best friends from an internet site I use when mummys asleep called Just Chat. The people in there are so caring and understanding and often say they wish I would find a bloke so I can stop going into the room.

Bye for now

Kenty

Dear Mademoiselle Kenty

Many thanks for your letter.

After reading your letter I’m in a rather confused state of affairs. Let me explain my quandary for your elucidation:

1. ‘I am 49 years old, 5’6, have jet black hair which looks so natural after a colour treatment.’ This would peak the interest of any red blooded man.

2. ‘You sound like the kind of man I would love to share THE REST OF MY LIFE with..’ This would encourage most red blooded man with an aversion to marriage to run in the opposite direction – and keep on running.

I’m afraid I lost faith in internet dating ever since the unfortunate tryst with an ample-bosomed ladyboy with a handlebar moustache. I’m completely to blame, I should have headed the advice of my sage dear old mom when she said, ‘All that glitters isn’t gold and all that flutters might have a certain something to, er, unfold.’

I can see the joy to be had from selling a quarter of humbugs, I like your altruistic nature, I even find your closeness to your mom extremely endearing (the correspondences I have recently received have made me aware that some people seem to lose their parents – and other family members – at an alarming rate). In short, you seem adorable. Perhaps we should move our relationship forward and skip to the next the stage? I find you so compelling I feel that I’m willing to travel anywhere to meet you.

Kind regards,

Rusty Trawler

P.S: Oh dear! There is a small proviso to the statement that I’m willing to travel anywhere to meet you. I’m sure you’re aware that no self-respecting gentleman would be willing to travel to Dartford, but the chances of this being a problem are as likely as finding a male suitor on JC I would have thought.

[rusty trawler]

Dear Mrs Jen

My last letter seems to have aroused your displeasure. I’m not entirely sure why, but please permit me the opportunity to allay any fears and concerns you may currently harbour. I assure you that my intentions remain, as always, entirely honourable.

Firstly, in a bid to maintain a scintilla of the gentlemanly charm and good grace I regularly boast of, may I congratulate you on your recent nuptials? I remain in awe of your ability to find husbands in the most unlikely of places. Perhaps other ladies should maintain a vigilant outlook around their husbands and fiancés or, at the very least, try not to so casually misplace them. Please Forgive my lack of manners if I don’t extend the customary ‘lucky man’ salutations to the groom, but I envisage that his good fortune may soon take a drastic turn for the worse.

Those swarthy men that have come to your attention in greater numbers recently are not Interpol officers or members of the Yorkshire mafia (for future reference, the latter are easily identified by their fondness for illegal whippet racing and the desire to sell prohibited home-brewed cases of the last of summer wine). They were actually my brethren from the JC Gentleman’s Club. They thought the serendipity of my finding one as special as you on the notice boards of a notorious chat room rather incredulous and needed physical proof.

I’m ashamed to admit it but after each letter seemed to make our special connection more and more palpable, I’m afraid I once again took a rather liberal attitude with the truth. You do of course remember my favourite playing card, the one with a remarkable likeness to your beautiful visage (your preternatural features notwithstanding)? I’m sure you will also recall I never leave home without it. Well, I have taken to proudly showing it to members of the club and as their faces contorted into one writhing mass of jealousy I may have said… well, I may have said that you’re my current paramour.

Men being what we are I was unable to refrain from embellishing the narrative. I’ll spare you the details but now they all think I’m much lither and flexible than I really am. Not to mention my amazing bouts of stamina. Don’t worry I took the pains to reserve your dignity: I said that on each occasion (I think double digits may have been mentioned) we ensured to turn out the lights.

I’m sorry to hear about your recent intruder. I’m even more disheartened to see that you think this may have been the result of my instigation or that I may have entered your home without your consent. Please be assured that had I found the courage to do so, I would have rapidly absconded with the portraits you so proudly mention in your letters. After all, one person’s art is another person’s special hidden stash.

I’m not a master criminal by any stretch of the imagination but had I been apprehended I don’t believe I would have been convicted with a custodial sentence. We are after all discussing what the French would call a crime passionel, with mitigating circumstances so profound that a jury of twelve men true and fair would undoubtedly take pity on me.

I’m sorry to read that your ample assets may not be as ample as they once were. I’m rather infatuated with the more buxom lady. That’s not to say I have an aversion to elfin features, but Rubeneque women seem to have more trouble running away from my admiring arms.

I hope this brief letter has restored your faith in my rectitude and sincerity.

With sincere regards,

Rusty Trawler

P.S: please mention your assets again, ample or otherwise

[rusty trawler]

Dear Miss Jen

Please forgive the extended formality but I’m an old-fashioned gentleman of old-fashioned virtue and a lady remains a lady until she musters the courage to visit my humble abode unchaperoned for the first time. I dare say once you have stepped over that particular figurative Rubicon you will question why my good name has been besmirched with ill-repute. Can I draw your attention to the non-disclosure agreement that I deftly mentioned to CheekyLittleMinx? It has taken years to cultivate this image of mystery and menace, and I’d hate to have to start from scratch.

I’ve been disowned by my family because of my inability to squire a suitable heir to the Trawler estate. I’ll spare you the details as they are a tad embarrassing, I’ll merely remind you of the need to sign that non-disclosure agreement post haste so we can move on to the next stage of our relationship. I’m extremely keen to explore the exploring of the features you mentioned.

I’m sorry to hear about your familial misfortune and I’m inspired to paraphrase Lady Bracknell: to lose one parent is a bit shoddy; losing them all has a bit of a bunny boiler air about it.

What a coincidence about the playing card. That particular card has always been considered to be the first among equals. In fact I have adequate confidence that my sentiments will be reciprocated when I divulge how much I loathe to be parted from it for even the shortest period of time. So much so that you will invariably find it ensconced in my trouser pocket when I’m in transit.

Many thanks for kind offer of the king size bottle of Eau de Marmite. I appreciate the gesture but I don’t think you’re ready to part with it: I’m sure that you now fondly associate those yeasty notes with memories of your dear departed husband – number 17, you say? Something tells me I will learn more about even more deceased husbands with each passing correspondence.

It seems Mrs Teapot has undertaken to do what my trusty man servant calls a ‘runner’. Perhaps it’s all for the best since her husband is a Mr Big in the Yorkshire underworld, but I sense I would have liked to have been ‘pulled’.

With fondest regards,

Rusty Trawler

P.S: did you mention ample assets again?

[rusty trawler]

@cheekylittleminx wrote:

Dear Mr Trawler .
This letter will be short but sweet , bit like me really im not a person to overdo it on letter writing ill just get straight to the point. I would be honoured to be you’re valentine date no chocolates or flowers needed , just the fine company of a very lovely man like yourself.by reading Jens application im not perfect but am sure by the end of the evening shud be quite an interesting one.
hope to hear from you soon
kindest regards
CheekyLittleMinx

PS… cheques in the post …… winks ;)

Dear CheekyLittleMinx (now there’s a name to get your letter to the top of the pile),

Many thanks for your application.

There’s a lot to be said for the short, concise entreaty. I, too, am a man of brevity when the occasion dictates – mostly I’m rendered speechless in the boudoir, which is exactly why I have recently banished all mirrors, clandestine audio recording equipment and camouflaged cameras.

May I say that I’m extremely appreciative that you’re a straight to the point, less is more type of lady? Simply because many has been the occasion where my ‘less’ in the boudoir has induced a risible response from female visitors. I sense you’re a lady of great compassion, understanding and sensitivity, nonetheless it is a prerequisite that I ask if you are willing to sign a non-disclosure agreement: I have been known to have a rather liberal approach with the truth and, like the amateur fisherman, I’m not adverse to exaggeration. I’d hate for my sobriquet ‘jumbo’ to be identified as the blatant lie that it obviously is.

I appreciate your understanding that chocolates and flowers are a superfluous expense and often considered a procrastinating preamble to the main event. However, I’m rarely described as a ‘very lovely man’ and the words ‘cad’, ‘bounder’ and ‘kindly remove your hand from my knee’ are oft-quoted in near proximity to my name, so I may stretch to the expense of a CurlyWurly to express my heartfelt gratitude.

Regards,

Rusty Trawler

[rusty trawler]

Dear Jen

I’m heartened that my parsimonious disposition hasn’t tempered our correspondence in any way. I’m a technological Luddite by nature but new fangled emails have the advantage of removing the need for a stamp budget, and the savings thus far have been utilised to enhance my bespoke aftershave collection. I’m extremely confident that I will be the recipient of your olfactory gratitude when you experience the sensory wonders of Eau de Stilton.

Mummy p.orn or p.orn of any description sounds horrendous to someone of my delicate constitution, so I’m glad you’re not that sort of lady. But you mentioned the love scene in the The Lady and the Tramp, and I happen to know it is the title to of a rarely seen x-rated Charlie Chaplin film. Are we talking about the same film?

I am more than willing to partake of Italian cuisine, and even more eager to mop my bread in your sauce.

I must declare that I have been rather lapse with the servicing of the Stannah, and, since I’m in a confessional mood, I feel the urge to confide in you that it has been a while since I have serviced anything. I’m told it’s rather like riding a bike, a skill I have failed to master ever since that unfortunate incident with a penny farthing.

I don’t have a will because I don’t think any of my kith or kin will foster any interest in inheriting my vast collection of antiquated playing cards embossed with anachronistic images of Victorian ladies consuming Cadbury Flakes. Perhaps you’re a kindred spirit and would be a worthy home for my collection should I befall upon tragic and unforeseeable circumstances. I only ask because one of the nibbling ladies on the playing cards has striking similarity to the description of your countenance in your first correspondence.

I’d love to say more but my cognitive facilities are currently occupied in trying to comprehend what Mrs Teapot is implying in her correspondence. Perhaps you can help. What have I ‘pulled’ and why would I require a coat?

With deepest affection,

Rusty Trawler

P.S: did you mention ample assets?

[rusty trawler]

Jen Jen. The gal’s hilarious.

[rusty trawler]

Dear Miss Jen

Many thanks for your speedy application.

A limited edition photocopy of a portrait by the esteemed Pablo Warhol would in time, no doubt, become a valuable asset and would actually add some veracity to my usual approach at luring the ladies when I say, ‘would you like to come upstairs and view my etchings?’ I’d actually have something to show them.

Under normal circumstances I would gladly send the necessary funds to ensure your expenses are covered, however the cost of a £2.50 postal order will dramatically impact my ability to wine and dine you in the manner that you are undoubtedly accustomed to. Would I seem any less of a catch if I asked if you had any objections to going Dutch?

You mentioned a passing acquaintance with the 50 Shades trilogy, I have yet to take the necessary time to read the tomes, alas. Furthermore, I’ve been reliable informed by male colleagues – erstwhile gigolos to a man – that any semblance of self-confidence that I’m currently able to muster would be destroyed in an instance. However – and this is only slightly intended as a blatant attempt to give you a modicum of an idea of the delights promised – my Mastermind subject would be the works and life of Dr Alex Comfort.

As a matter of coincidence I happen to be on close terms with the chief forensic pathologist at Interpol and she has reliably informed me that your last 15 husbands all died with a smile on their faces. It seems to me that the aphorism it’s not important how long you have lived; it’s what you got up to is rather apposite at this juncture.

Nigella Lawson, Dawn French, Ann Widdicombe and Cruella de Vil you say? Would I be wrong to suggest that you’re a sexy, funny lady who can be rather bossy and animated in the boudoir? Please refrain from answering this question if I’m terribly mistaken, I’ve conjured the mental image now and I’d like it to linger a little longer.

In closing you sound like just kind of cosmopolitan lady that an erudite man like me should consider engaging in prolonged epistolary communication with. Please don’t think my decision-making process is in anyway influenced by the lack of respondents.

P.S: would you be impressed by the promise of ride on my Stannah?

Regards,

Rusty Trawler

[rusty trawler]

@angelbabe wrote:

My son and his girlfriend made me a nanny this morning
Congratulations to you both on the birth of you’re little boy

Tyler James
weight 7lb’s 8 oz

Congratulations Grandma Angelbabe.

I like the name.

[rusty trawler]

LOL

Absolutely hilarious. Deserves a a much better reply than this but momentarily rendered speechless. Love it.

[Author]

Posts