I subscribe to Oddee, which is a site that puts together lists. All kinds of lists. For example, “9 Amazing Facts About The Earth,” “13 Coolest ‘Just Married’ Photos,” and some really STRANGE ones, too… like “10 Craziest Foreign Objects Found Stuck In A Rectum” (that one was quite enlightening – link is at the bottom, I don’t want to lose you just yet). To make a short story long, wait. Reverse that. Make a long story short, last night I went through Oddee’s “9 Wackiest Comment Threads” posting. Most were “meh, not bad.” I would read a dozen or so comments into the thread of typically over 400 comments, and that was enough. But there was one that was good enough that I started laughing out loud so hard and so long that I woke up my deaf dog. Seriously. I have a deaf dog and woke him up last night. The visual image that the commenter created was extraordinary!
So now that I’ve totally trumped this up….
If you didn’t know, Amazon has become quite the popular site for posting silly comments for various products. Perfect example recently were the reviews about an Avery binder… You remember. Romney’s “binders full of women.” That was when I found out the fun which can be had on Amazon.
The product with the great comments is for “Veet for Men Hair Removal Gel Creme 200 ml.” I’m sure you can see where this is going. The top rated comment is called “DO NOT PUT ON KNOB AND BOLLOCKS” and it is a goodie! But there’s one that came later that I think tops that one. Overall, there are 602 customer reviews, and the numbers for the top comment is 25,114 of 25,292 people found that review helpful. It is listed below. But my favorite is first. It’s a bit long, and I thought it was starting to become a bit too stupid. I almost quit reading it. But, like a true internet solder I am, hung in there (lol… oh, pardon the pun on that one… you’ll see). Then the story-teller came to the culmination of his experience with Veet with such a vivid description it literally had the scene playing out in my mind like I was watching a movie rather than reading… and it was worth it.
Oh, btw…. This is from a listing on Amazon UK so these are (for the most part) comments from Brit’s…. who have the BEST sense of humor on earth!!! Long live Monty Python! (My comments from this point on are bold and italicized.)
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 succesful and 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 drawer 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 arse. This was not doing the trick as some of the gel had found it’s way up the chutney channel and it felt like the space shuttle was running it’s 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, arse in the air, strawberry ice cream dripping from my bell end pushing a sprout up my arse 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 involutary 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…:)
Now the next one. The top comment…..
Being a loose cannon who does not play by the rules the first thing I did was ignore the warning and smear this all over my knob and bollocks. The bollocks I knew and loved are gone now. In their place is a maroon coloured bag of agony which sends stabs of pain up my body every time it grazes against my thigh or an article of clothing. I am suffering so that you don’t have to. Heed my lesson. DO NOT PUT ON KNOB AND BOLLOCKS.
(I am giving this product a 5 because despite the fact that I think my bollocks might fall off, they are now completely hairless.)
I have a very strong feeling I will be reading these Veet comments for some time to come. I do not care for stupid, crude humor… you know, fart jokes and the like. But these are so much different – British humor, for one, which is an acquired taste. Add in the British slang. The words used representing the male anatomy are all choice! What helps top it off is the “very serious” nature the story is told by a blundering bloke who only wanted to please his missus….. Read on, please.
This very new one features the talent of a poet….
Having used various “male grooming” products over the years, (garden shears, the wifes nail file and the like), I was drawn to this product by the amount of 5 star reviews, no need to read them of course, quantity has a quality all of its own 🙂
I elected to go with the nucleur option of heaping a whole tube in my undercrackers for a day and let nature take its course. Reasoning sound, outcome disasterous.
Suffice to say that my gonad region now resembles a turkeys neck and Im out of “business” for around 6 weeks.
Its driven me to “Auden Inspired” teste verse mode……….
Stop all the traffic, make the lights go red,
For there’s something thats happened `down there’, that I dread.
Silence the cell phones and stop the snakes hissing,
For all of my testicle hair is now missing.
Let the news choppers circle my house in formation,
They will see that Im having “Testes Stagnation”.
But at some point in time, my growth will return,
And they shall have pictures so others may learn.
It was my right, my left, and my bit in the middle,
It was even the bit from which I do widdle.
My morning fumble, my midnight grope,
I thought I could hack it. But sadly nope.
They must have all shed when I wasn’t looking,
Some plan or another the Veet mans been cooking.
So learn from my pain and my ignoramus,
Keep Veet at least one metre, from your precious anus.
Ali Muhabarakah, of the Secret Police of Damascus, explains his 5-star review:
I must end this now else I will re-post every comment from Amazon here. Here is “Sweet Baby Jesus deliver me from this torment”
Possessing as I do a genital cluster that bears an uncanny resemblance (and indeed aroma) to Chewbacca’s armpit, I decided to purchase this product. Upon applying the creme to my tassel and conkers, I was taken aback by a sudden and disturbing gasping noise, followed by a sound that I can only describe as the horrific howlings from Satan’s own Hell Hound, Cerberus. As I whirled around to view the source of the noise, I perchanced to glance in the bathroom mirror, and, seeing my own mouth stretched agape in a terrible rictus of agony, I deduced the sound was coming from me.
My eyes widening with mounting horror, I surveyed the damage occurring to my sausage and beans with no small sense of panic. My pubes were actually bubbling and fizzing, in much the same way they might if one of James Cameron’s Aliens had just sprayed their acid blood upon them. There were no swear words strong enough to adequately describe the agony, and in my delirium I began making them up. I don’t recall exactly what I screamed, but I’m fairly sure the entirely-new expletive “funting” was employed.
With as much haste as I could muster I hobbled into the shower and applied cooling water to the conflagration in my crotch, which only served to spread the napalm to my perineum. I am not a church-going man but as I felt the flaming horror trickle across that tender inch of no-man’s land, I confess that I prayed aloud to Jesus and his host of angels that the advancing agony would not stray into my buttonhole. However, my prayers went unheeded, and as I felt the liquid inferno sizzle its way into my most private of eyes, I lost consciousness, but not before grabbing the shower curtain and collapsing, in a disturbing echo of that famous scene from Hitchcock’s “Psycho”. Although believe me, being hacked to death by Norman Bates in a dress would have been a walk in the park compared to the searing agony I endured that fateful day.
And now, the link to “10 Craziest Foreign Objects Found Stuck In A Rectum“ just like I promised. Might
ass as well cover all the territory down there.