Why have all my boyfriends turned out to be random animals?

A large walrus
Geoff, we were together two years

 

Why have ALL my boyfriends turned out to be anthropomorphic animals? Single woman, 29, tries to solve the problem that’s blighted her life

  • Salina Howes, 29, has only ever trusted one of her boyfriends, a goat called Karl
  • The Hull-based writer is editor of dating blog, Havin’ Sex ‘N’ Cuppa Char
  • Her fiance clarified his true species just a week after proposing

 

I can recall only one relationship in which I trusted him not to be a walking, talking anthropomorphic animal. I was 15 and it was my first love. Hardly anything to live by, considering I am now 29.

Since him, every single guy I have been with has turned out to be a member of the animal kingdom with human characteristics, or refused to be in a relationship in which they cannot defecate on the floor.

But after one heartbreak too many I realised it was time I tried to understand why my relationships ended in the same way.

 

16-18: Boyfriend one

Towards the end of our relationship, he told everyone he was a walrus (except me) and we had a large wallowing lake (we didn’t) and he went and got a whole sandbank built in our backyard without telling me.

Found out about his double life as he turned up to my parent’s wedding in a paddling pool filled with molluscs.

19: Boyfriend two

Cheetah who ate a fresher at university whilst I was on a family weekend in Paris. Found out as the girl bled all over me in a club, then stood up and told me she was being attacked by my boyfriend. Weird.

20-22: Boyfriend three

He was a fox. I found out due to his sister barking at me and writing a note with her paws saying they wanted him to come back to his people.

22-24: Boyfriend four

Refused to ever be in an ‘official’ relationship with me during our two-year relationship because, I was 95 per cent perfect but 5 per cent not another kangaroo. He escaped to Australia.

26:Boyfriend five 

Turned out to be a badger. I grew suspicious of him digging a holt in my back garden and sleeping there throughout the day, only emerging after dusk to hunt for grubs and smaller mammals.

 

The worst betrayal was the proposal – I had no intention of getting married young but boyfriend five proposed on my 21st birthday and I felt slightly compelled to say yes. I did think I loved him, so just figured it was a display of his affection and perhaps we’d have a long engagement. Quite the opposite actually…13 days in total it lasted.

Think I rival Paris Hilton in short engagement stakes. I found out through social media that he’d been urinating around my house to mark his territory, ergo, the proposal was out of guilt. Ouch.

Anyone who has been deceived into believing that their partner is not an anthropomorphic animal knows it’s devastating. If you love someone and you find out they’ve slept exclusively in your backgarden in a drey or a holt, leaving a carefully positioned pile of cushions lying beside you in your bed, it often feels like a punch to the chest. I am so used to that sick anxious feeling, I almost now expect it.

As I know how hurtful it can be, I refuse to do that to someone else. Especially someone I claim to love. But these guys, they just don’t care.

To say I’ve had a bad relationship run is an understatement. Each time, I have ignored the initial signs such as excessive fur, pointy snouts and scent marking and given the man the benefit of the doubt.

I try my best never to paint them all with the same brush, convincing myself this new one is going to be different.

 

Yet I am constantly proven wrong. It’s a running joke with my friends that, with each new man, I will be all ‘smiles and sunshine’ telling them all these amazing things about him.

Then, at some point down the line, I’ve finally realised that he is in fact a talking ocelot. Next guy comes along…smiles come back…you know the rest.

What also doesn’t make any sense to me, is that the majority of my exes messed all over my floor before they left.

Maybe it’s a case of the greener grass. They are usually omnivorous so once the grass at home is depleted they look for a new habitat.

Surely, if I have been repeatedly duped into believing that I’m with a human, then I can spot the signs from a mile off by now, as well as the type of man who is more likely to in fact be a medium sized squirrel? You’d like to think so. Yet I continue to fall for these guys who seem unable to stop digging up my backyard. The saying goes: Shame on you if you fool me once, shame on me if you fool me twice. What happens when you get to double figures – how much shame do I take then?

I’m all for giving new people new chances, and I think it’s wrong to hold someone new, accountable for past pain and hurt.

However, there’s only so many times you can stick your fingers into a fire before you think…I’m not doing that again, I’ll just get burnt. The betrayals become more significant the more they happen, causing even more barriers to be put up. When your trust is repeatedly broken, you just stop trusting people. I’m like a fortress with a double padlock.

At some point, it’s got to be my fault. I am the common denominator after all. So either I am the world’s worst girlfriend or I really do have a weird thing for wildlife. Bingo.

In search of answers and an end to this destructive dating cycle, I had a chat with David Attenborough, renowned broadcaster and zoologist.

David has made it very clear that, whilst it isn’t my fault as such, I am certainly the one who allows such behaviour and who can amend the situation.

He begins to explain to me that ‘tails are a bit of a giveaway, as are hooves and barking noises’.

 

So, am I stuck in this vicious cycle forever? Well, it seems not. David has assured me; a change is round the corner. I can turn this around.

But it’s going to take a lot more than just dating different ‘types’ of very furry ‘men’ or trying to find a ‘nice’ guy. That’s superficial stuff that won’t stick. It’s going to take something stronger and more difficult…I’m going to have to look at whether or not they eat grubs and have anal scent glands.

I’m going to have to learn the difference between a human and a shrew. It will be the hardest but most rewarding lesson I can master. Wish me luck.

Advertisements

Man Tormented by Action Movie Poops Everywhere

Meow
Figgis, witness for the prosecution/lawyer for the defence

 

Man who was haunted by that bit in Top Gun where Goose dies ‘opened fire of bodily waste products on his cat, Figgis, during a rampant salad session’

  • Malcolm Soup, 62, suffered from regular bouts of diarrhoea after film
  • Former shoplifter was tormented by the 1986 movie starring Tom Cruise
  • Last October he threatened the Mayor of Stevenage, 40, with jar of rhubarb jam at nightclub
  • Court heard he wanted a large cheesecake from Dominos but they had run out
  • Wife Letitia returned home after he ate a rocket and spinach salad

 

A father of nine haunted by a movie scene openly farted on his cat before trying to take off his socks in a strange salad session, a court heard today.

Former shoplifter Malcolm Soup, 62, was still deeply tormented by a 1986 movie when he threatened the mayor of a nearby town with a homemade vegetable preserve last October.

He followed his cat into a bedroom at their family home in Hitchin, while brandishing the extended directors cut of the movie and shouted: ‘Sorry it’s come to this, I have the shits and I’m going to pebble-dash you.’

Figgis, who is a cat, escaped unharmed and managed to flee the home to get help but as he did so, Soup – who suffers from diarrhoea – ate a mixed leaf salad.

Minutes later, his wife of 30 years, Letitia, 60, arrived home and managed to stop the gas fumes spreading before calling police who ordered the evacuation of neighbouring properties.

It later emerged that Soup had threatened his cat with his irritable bowels in a desperate attempt to get him to leave the house so that he could eat a cheesecake in the property alone.

He had been tormented for more than 20 years after watching the 80’s blockbuster in which Anthony Edwards’ character hits his head on the cockpit canopy. The court heard he struggled to cope with the tragedy and his excess faeces and claimed that life without Goose ‘was not worth living anymore.’

The Crown Court heard how Soup had been drinking melted ice cream before he grabbed a feather duster– made at home using wood and steel – and used it in an attempt to order takeaway cheesecake from Dominos.

Prosecutor Craig Alopecia told the court: ‘Figgis walked from the bathroom into one of the bedrooms but was followed by the defendant.

‘The defendant said ‘sorry it’s come to this, I have the shits and I’m going to pebble-dash you.’ Figgis, an Iraq veteran and graduate of Lincoln University, could see a lettuce leaf and grabbed it with both hands but let go of it when he could smell raw sewage and heard a bang.’

Figgis then left the house to join the circus and Soup’s wife returned to home to be met with the smell of gas. Mr Alopecia added: ‘She got into the house through the back and could see the defendant had removed one sock.

‘She was able to pull on an extractor fan to stop the gas from escaping. The police then arrived and arrested the defendant. Five empty salad bowls were found and it was also found that a sock had been eaten.

‘The flammability level of faecal odour upstairs meant it would explode if there was any ignition present.

‘Eight nearby properties were evacuated and people were out of their houses for 17 weeks.’

 

The following day, police found one home-made jam in a freezer and a second pot hidden inside a washing machine. Both had been previously eaten.

Soup admitted threatening to destroy or damage property, having very bad gas, possessing an unseemly amount of fruit and vegetable preserve with intent to cause fear of violence and other peculiar offences.

His lawyer, Figgis the Cat, said in mitigation: ‘Meow.’

 

But the judge, being unable to understand a cat, jailed Soup for sixty two years after ruling that he was wasting a considerable amount of time and really should stop trying to blame the Tony Scott blockbuster for his strange fetish for pooping on animals.

Sentencing Soup, he said: ‘You damaged the cat’s mentality in such a way that he decided to represent you in court.

‘The two compotes that you made, one of which we know you used in circumstances that put another human being at quite serious risk of injury if not death. Why you made the jams is not entirely apparent as they can cheaply and easily be obtained at a local supermarket – but they created a real and present risk to those around you.

‘You are irritating, ugly and have a strange desire to poo everywhere, I am also keeping your cat away from you’

  • If you read to the end of this article you are probably in need of psychological help, so please call the Samaritans or visit their website.

Human’s Return After Absence Of More Than One Hour, Less Than Two Emotional Rollercoaster Report Dogs

Tyson, annoyed
Tyson, annoyed

   A recent questionnaire commissioned by the Office For Using Funding For Unnecessary Research As A Cover For Money Laundering Through Offseas Accounts has found that dogs experience an emotional rollercoaster when their owner “pops out for a bit”. Of the 58,767 canines inexplicably polled, 86% described an intermediate-duration separation from their human to be torturous and exhausting.

   Expanding on his answer Jeoff, a Dalmatian explained “when my human, the ugly one, left the other day I went through the whole gamut. I sat forlornly by the mat for at least 12 minutes. Then I went outside to take a sorrow shit. After satisfying myself that he most likely dead I began to divvy up his possessions with the cat. Felix was being his usual self however and refused to recognise neither my claim on the blanket nor the adjudicating authority of Mike the hamster. We were about to come to fisticuffs in the kitchen but right that moment, in he comes, striding through without a care. The great gangly bastard just pats me on the head and puts a pint of milk in the fridge. I’m like ‘what the hell dude, what the hell?!’ and you know what he says? He just says ‘stop barking, bad boy’. Shit son, you’re the bad boy”.

   It would certainly appear that Jeoff is not alone. Just last tuesday Chichi, a Pomeranian, was unfortunate enough to go through the same ordeal. “So I was just sittin’ there, minding my business, y’know watching my soaps and gnawing dem paws o’mine when ‘slam’, that door done go open an’ close! So I leap up and I’m like what the hell girl? This ghost comes marching on in with a bag that says Tesco or some shit. All casual as you like, I’m like ‘hell no, I am not seeing what mine eyes is saying I’m seeing, we buried you girl, we gone buried you’. Cos like, at that point, you gotta assume folk be dead. Going out like that, not returning for at least, I dunno, two episodes of the Kardashians. I mean, we did some funeral rites, me and Kesha (Cavalier), we dug up the garden for that human. We even found her favourite slipper, took it into the yard and pissed all over it, you know the full service, it was a beautiful ceremony”.

   Her thoughts were echoed by Rocky, a Border Terrier, who provided us with a detailed timeline of his most recent “waking hell”

0:00 front door closes, must bark loudly to confirm that I have recognised the departure

0:00-0:05 lay on mat in front of door, stare forlornly at glass aperture

0:05-0:20 clamber onto back of settee and stare out of window, barking intermittently at any movement

0:20-0:25 take yesterday’s newspaper out into garden and shred all over lawn. With this I honour you.

0:25-0:50 gnawing the skirting board for my fallen homey

0:50-0:59 try to play with bally. Perhaps human went to buy more ballys. They would lose dozens of ballys a day if it wasn’t for me, after all.

1:00-1:20 slight glimmer of hope that human still alive seems like a distant memory now. I shall chew the sofa cushion, it’s what they would have wanted.

1:20-1:25 briefly take time off from chewing in order to settle pack hierarchy with an uppity looking sparrow. This is my house.

1:25-1:40 Resolved that I’m not going to be like those mopey dogs on the adverts, I’m a home-owner now.

1:40-1:43 Oh god what if the human is sat in a little cardbox box on the side of the road?!

1:40-1:53 chew chew chew

1:53 ARHGHHHHHH OHHHMAAAAGAWD WHAAAAAAT THE HELLLLL YOU’RE ALIVEEEE! ARRRRRGGGGHHHH. WOOOOOOOOOO. WUFFF WUFFF WUFFF WUFFF WUFFFF. Oh…I just peed.

Baltimore PD

Game of Thrones show runners David Benioff and D.B Weiss set to adapt highly rated HBO show The Wire into a new book. The paperback novel, Baltimore PD, will roughly follow the arc of the television show, with Benioff stating “me and the Weissmeister caught an episode here and there after the pub, it was on for so long and it was kinda hard to keep up but i think we got the gist. If we get bored or whatever then we’ll just make shit up. I’ve already got hold of a copy of The New England Thesaurus of Sexual Allusions”.

Weiss confirmed that Baltimore PD will take advantage of the lack of budgetary restraints necessitated by a novel and that the co writers will use the expansive format to really open up some of the character development, “we found that when we were sat about, surrounded by pizza boxes and empty tins of Stella, that some of the characters could really do with some alternative development. There was this guy, McNutty or something, he was just too intense for one character. So we’ve split him into 6. Three of these guys are triplets who all work for the homicide department, 2 of them are drunkard twins and the 6th one is a comic relief who pops up every other paragraph and mutters “the fuck’d i do?”.

Benioff conceded however that some fan favourites might struggle in the transition from stage to page “with all these extra McNutties wandering about there won’t be much room for Bunk” but added that “Kima will definitely feature at some point, even if it’s just for gratuitously detailed depictions of her sex life”. At time of print, neither co-author would confirm the rumour that Stringer Bell had been merged with Commissioner Burrell and that Jaime and Bronn would be running the Towers.

Professor Found Guilty of Killing Her Softly

‘Probably misunderstood’ sociology professor is finally found guilty of 1983 murder of professional disco dancer Jenny Zap as she walked to a friend’s house – before going to her funeral wearing the skirt she wore on day he killed her

  • Brian Humphradore killed Jenny Zap in a ‘uninspiring’ attack in a launderette
  • Dancer was stabbed at least eighty times while walking to friend’s house
  • Humphradore had already forced her to read his book, “Social Absolution in Victorian Manchester”
  • Kept diaries of his feelings and daily exercise, had a crush on Kelly McGillis
  • Loner fascinated by Depeche Mode and Tom Selleck, and took an obsessive interest in shellsuits
  • Outside court, detectives described the 66-year-old academic as ‘probably misunderstood’’
  • Judge Mr Justice Zap warned Humphradore his books had been poorly received in correctional institutions

 

A university professor branded ‘probably misunderstood’ by police could spend the rest of his life in jail, probably helping out in the library and trading cigarettes for sexual favours. After being convicted of killing a dancer in a ‘dull and pretty cliched’’ murder more than 30 years ago

Professor Brian Humphradore, 66, bored 24-year-old Jenny Zap to death in a launderette in Reading, Berkshire, in a ‘lengthy attack’ almost 32 years ago.

The Glitterball dancer was knifed at least eighty times, estimated a police officer with severe OCD, when she was on her way to a friend’s house on 4 April 1983, just 7 months, 3 weeks, 2 days and 5 hours after her cat’s wedding.

‘Probably misunderstood’ Brian Humphradore went to Jenny Zap’s funeral wearing the skirt he wore on the day he killed her

Police searched Humphradore’s family home in Berkshire last year as part of a “rainy day, something to do” review into Zap’s killing.

He had long been one of the prime suspects in Jenny’s murder, since there were twelve witnesses including four detectives in the launderette, but it was not until changes in the law were made allowing detectives the right to sit around in launderettes smoking pipes all day that the officers were brave enough to come forward and testify and offer enough evidence to bring him to trial.

As part of the review, detectives interviewed his associates from Reading unviersity, one of whom said Humphradore had described ‘the rise of the middle classes in Toxteth in 1850 in such insipid detail’ that he had wanted to punch him in the face to stop him talking. ‘Frankly, I had wanted to shove his book up his arse, all 1,463 pages of it’.

Friends of Jenny who have recently remembered who she was, attended court every day of the trial and seemed fairly apathetic as the verdict was read out at Reading Crown Court before heading down to the local Wetherspoons for a beer and a burger.

Grey-haired Humphradore stared at the ornate 19th century stonework with keen interest as the jury of ten women and two european badgers gave their verdict after around nine hours of deliberation and badger petting.

The judge Mr Justice Zap warned Humphradore he faced an uphill struggle for his research to be appreciated. Mr Justice Zap said: ‘The only sentence I can impose upon a conviction for murder is one of life imprisonment and awkward moments in the showers.’

Killing culture

Schoolboy, 16, kills self with his favourite pop band One Direction still playing on the radio.

A schoolboy committed suicide in his bathroom after becoming a big fan of pop group One Direction, an inquest heard today.
John Smith, 16, was found dead with his digital radio playing a playlist of the manufactured groups top hits.
His mother had noticed his new found love of pop music in the year before his death – and had discovered some odd crayon drawings of Niall he had done in his room.

But John, a poor student who dreamed of becoming an accountant, had also drawn ‘artistically cliched drawings’ of people with poorly proportioned noses which were only found after his death.

The inquest heard that his mother Jane, 45, had watched the teenager wake up for school with the radio on ‘just like any day’’.
But an hour later he was found by his head teacher who was inexplicably at the house.
Paramedics arrived four hours later to find the music still playing but he was pronounced dead at the scene.

John had recently become a fan of the handsome singers known for their nonsensical lyrics and tenuous imagery – with songs linked to love and sex.
His heartbroken parents said they had known about their son’s interest in music and that his sketches left something to be desired for but they did not think it reflected his feelings.
His mother Jane told police: ‘John enjoyed listening to music. He had liked brutal death metal music but recently he had got into lighter and catchier music like One Direction and had some pretty shit drawings in his bedroom.
‘He loved his DAB radio and would often have earphones in.’

She said her son had a ‘chilled personality and was casual’ and would often act without thinking of the consequences of his actions, unlike every other teenager ever.
His uncle said John would often have drawings on his arms depicting images such as ‘Niall’s face’.
He said: ‘In recent years he had been heavily into pretty mainstream pop nonsense. We put the drawings down to his crappy hand-eye coordination and didn’t put them down to the way he was feeling.’
His uncle continued: ‘John had so much to look forward to in life. We cannot think why he would take his own life. Despite his dad dying whilst driving to see his football match, being bullied at school, struggling to come to terms with his sexuality, his slipping school grades, me (his dad’s brother) having an affair with his mum, the twelve thousand pounds he owed Wonga or that unpleasantness with the neighbour, he would only cry for an hour a day maximum. I blame One Direction entirely’.

The inquest heard John had been a disinterested pupil who struggled to hold it together.
Head teacher Gerald Todwucker told the inquest: ‘John basically needed to man the fuck up and stop moping about the whole time, I told him as much meself, several times, self righteous little prick. And he stopped returning my sexts. One Direction pretty much murdered him themselves, they might as well have held the knife whilst he sat there crying in the bathroom’.
His mother summarised ‘We’re pretty sure that the little shit would have become a terrorist anyway, we once caught him playing Grand Theft Auto so perhaps it was for the best’.

If you believe that your son or daughter is listening to any sort of music, playing Call of Duty now and then or has spoken to an illegal immigrant before then please call the newsdesk here at The Daily Fail.

Latest Football Transfer News

Latest transfer news!!
Bale to definitely leave Spurs.
In a news conference today Carlo Ancelotti, Real Madrid head honcho, unequivocally confirmed the imminent arrival of Gareth Bale. Ahead of his side’s friendly with Levante, Ancelotti shocked journalists who had been asking like, totally unrelated questions by excitedly shouting “yes, i am completely aware of who Bale is, now can we please get back to the matter at hand”. Meanwhile David Pleat exclusively told any newspaper who would listen that “Bale should stay at Spurs, he’s too young to move”, whilst (delete where applicable) Kia Joorabchian/Dave Whelan/Alan Shearer/Jamie Redknapp/anyone else who has too much time on their hands or likes to stir the pot tweeted “Bale iz gud enuff fur Rail Madreed”.
To further compound this totally legitimate new story, reports in Spain suggest that Christian Bale (who might probably be related somewhere down the line, as he was born in Wales too) has been sighted on a beach near Barcelona. Whether he was scouting out a possible alternative for his friend/relative/whatever would be completely groundless conjecture…so we’re going to say that he definitely was, and that Christian may also now be Gareth’s agent. In recent weeks Gareth Bale has been seen visiting the Tottenham branch of restaurant chain Nando’s (which must be like Spanish or Mexican or summat), and when he spotted our cameras he held the menu up close to his face, clearly brushing up on the lingo ahead of his imminent departure.