My letter to Jet from Gladiators.

Dearest Diane,

Please, excuse my intrusion, but I have something I need to ask.

If I wasn’t married, would you like to go out for some chips or something?

Yes, I know I shouldn’t rush things, and you barely know me, but recently I saw an old episode of Gladiators, and realised how much you meant to me.  The pitter patter of my heart when thingy whatsit said you were about to take to the stage will always stay with me, as will the disappointment of thingy whatsit saying it was Phoenix or Panther.  I’m not going to lie, I didn’t mind when it was Lightning (she was my second favourite), but she didn’t send my heart racing as you did when she took to the rings for Hang Tough.

I’m not the sprightly young thing I was, granted, but I think I would make an excellent suitor.  I’m quite attractive for my age I would say, I’m funny, modest, well edukated, and have a way with words, even if I do see saw myself.

I must confess there is my wife to consider, who is pregnant, and might cause a soupcon of a problem, but I assure you, if we were to advance to a second date with the possible prospect of “under the shirt” action, I’d have her out the door as soon as I had buttered her sides.  Don’t let the fact she is pregnant put you off either, there is a benefits office nearby, that’s what they’re there for. I’ll send the kid a jumper at Christmas. It might be presumptuous, but I kind of hoped we could go shopping for a little jumper for it together? We could go for something to eat at Wetherspoon’s after, make it romantic.

The thing is, if you don’t ask, you don’t get! Carpe diem as they say in Latin: Cheese the day!

So there you have it. I’ve laid my feelings out in the open, for all to see, and I am feeling cold and vulnerable.  It took a lot of courage and a bottle of Courvoisier  to write this (well, it was Covonia, I lost my glasses), so if you wouldn’t mind letting me know either way, I’d be really grateful. 

If you want to text first, let me know.  We could send snap chat photos of our bits to each other.

Oh one last thing, I don’t have any money and I live in a crappy house, but I don’t think money is important do you? I think love is more important than money; love, trust and honesty.

But if you don’t have any money, don’t bother answering.

Yours, longingly,

Howard

PS Please be assured this letter is done very tongue in cheek, and as a giggle, I have no intention of stalking you. Mainly because my wife is the size of Saracen. She looks like him too.

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